The Gordian Knot
by Gargantua
Summary: When entrusted with the power of the multiverse, it sometimes helps to have a user manual.  Rose makes a wish that has unexpected consequences.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Gazing down, she scrunched her bare toes in the soft grass. It was wet with the pooled droplets of the recent rain, much like the garden bench upon which she was seated. She felt the damp seeping through her pajamas and the underwear beneath, but she did not stir.

She could no more have returned to slumber than he could cross the void.

Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she savored the fresh scent of wet earth mixed with the sweet fragrance of her mother's flower beds. Slowly, she turned her face towards the sky and opened her eyes.

Night stretched above her vast and mysterious, teasing her with the promise of space and time. Each glimmering star seemed to twinkle meanly, each flash reminding her of what she lost and would never reclaim. And in the middle of it all loomed the full moon, so close that she could count the number of craters that pockmarked its face. It blazed in the heavens, a beacon that tugged insistently at some part of her soul.

She shivered and wrapped each hand around a slat in the bench. Her grip tightened as the sensation swamped through her again, millions of ants marching just beneath her skin.

Idly, she thought she would be used to this by now. It had been nearly a year since they had parted company, and ever since then she found herself driven to confront the full moon, every hair on her body standing on end. In those early days she wondered if this was him trying to get through, trying to come back to her. Her fanciful eyes would gaze at the heavens looking for small blue twinkles, and her heart would leap with excitement each time she found one.

As time relentlessly passed, she understood her hope was a vain one. She no longer desperately searched for blue twinkles in the night sky. Hopefulness morphed into resignation, and now when she faced-off with the moon she was more resolute and determined than heart-broken.

Emotions had no substance; they were ethereal wisps of the soul, not tangible things like bodies. Though the universe may not allow either of them to physically cross the dimensions, she was convinced it would allow her to send him a message. Life, while not perfect here in Pete's world, was okay. She desperately wanted to reassure him that she was alright, and doing her best to make him proud.

More importantly, she wanted to know that he, too, was alright.

Closing her eyes, she turned her focus inward and gathered all her reassurance and love for him into her hands. In her mind's eye her feelings for him coalesced into a warm ball of blinding golden energy, and into this she fed all her wishes and hopes – that he was not alone, that he found someone to stand by him, and, most importantly, that he was happy.

The ball of energy grew with each addition, her hands soon unable to contain it. She worked quickly, forming it into an arrow, gleaming like the sun. When it was complete, she shot it straight into the bejeweled fabric of the night sky, willing it to pierce the void and find him on the other side.

She could see it streaming through the heavens, a long golden tail trailing behind. Though she never looked down, she knew without question that the end of that tail was tied directly to her heart.

Most nights she would watch the arrow fly higher and higher until colliding with something solid. She would trace its fall as closely as she traced its ascent, and she always winced with pain each time the message returned to coil dejectedly around her heart. On those nights, she'd slink back to her bed; shoulders slumped, she'd burrow into the covers and cry herself to sleep.

Still her hope was undaunted, and she fervently wished that tonight would be different.

She watched the missile with anxious glowing eyes, following the projectile as it sliced a gleaming arc across the sky. It struck the barrier. The resistance was tangible, a solid wall designed to keep her and the Doctor apart, and she held her breath. Spots danced before her eyes and just when she thought she would spend yet another night in tears, she felt something give.

No more than a slight dent in the barrier between realities, she focused on that one spot, pushing and pushing until, finally, her arrow poked the tiniest of holes. Her will darted through the howling bringing light into the darkness, illuminating creatures that knew only the nothingness of the void.

Barrier after barrier bent to her will, her arrow stringing world after world like a child making a popcorn chain at Christmas. Soon she felt the other end of her heart line anchor itself somewhere on the other side. It was only then she allowed herself to breathe. She had done it. Her message of love and hope had been successfully forced through the void, and she knew deep within her heart that he would receive that warmth and know from whom it had come.

Her soul leapt for joy; she felt unfettered and free. Jumping to her feet, she raised her hands to the sky and smiled. Giving in to her jubilation she pirouetted and howled her victory at the moon.

Tonight she stepped confidently back to her bed, her spine straight and proud. Tonight, when the rush of victory lessened and she reached for slumber, she was smiling.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Whoah!" The speaker of this epithet appeared young, her blonde hair fixed in two braids on either side of her head. At first glance, she resembled a Swiss milkmaid, but when she opened her mouth, she sounded more like a valley girl. "Like, what is that?"

Three women clustered around a massive vid screen perched above a console that matched it in size. Displayed on the screen were a myriad of multi-colored strings, most of which ran parallel to one another, with only the occasional crossover. Looking closer at the individual strings revealed that each was comprised of trillions of tiny fibers, some parallel, some interwoven, some beginning, and some ending.

The overall picture was one of order and coordinated direction. Each fiber had its place within the string; each string had its place within the whole of the fabric. But there was an anomaly that marred the delicate weave. On the right side of the screen, a few strings clustered together forming a small clump.

An elderly woman with hair the color of snow piled up in a bun and wrinkled skin the color of chocolate nudged the girl none too gently with her cane. The cane sported a large silver skull for a handle. "It's a knot, you daft girl. You've seen those before."

"Yeah," replied the girl, "but this one looks, like, totally different."

"That's because it is." The third woman of the trio was adorned with long hair the color of fire done up in a massive beehive, and clothes that looked as if they had been stolen from the closet of Mrs. Cleaver. "Isn't it amazing?"

The old woman snorted. "It's a pain in our asses is what it is."

"Look!" said the youngest, pointing at the knot. "Like, it just totally got, like bigger!"

The old woman touched a few keys on the console and the display on the screen changed zooming in on the small clump and enlarging it by a factor of at least ten. All three stared at the offensive knot. Nothing happened for the space of a few seconds, but then there was a flash and the knot was a few millimeters larger than it had been as it sucked in a few more of the surrounding strands.

The elderly woman rapped her cane on the floor in frustration. "Shit."

"Can't you, like, fix it?" asked the youngest, pointing at the large menacing pair of shears that hung from the old woman's sash. The handle of the shears were shaped into a silver skull, matching the head of the cane. "Snip, snip?" She mimicked scissors with the first two fingers of her right hand.

"You know that's the last resort," retorted the old woman, annoyed. Her gnarled fingers moved with unexpected speed over the keys of the console.

The display of the knot shifted to the left and a stream of numbers and complex equations flickered over the screen at an incredible rate. Three pairs of eyes eagerly absorbed the information. Once the flow of data ceased, they looked at one another with grim expressions.

"What the hell?" demanded the eldest of the three. "I've never seen a knot like this."

"What's causing it?" asked the red-head.

The old woman touched a few more keys before replying. "I… I don't know."

"Until we know the cause…" started the red-head.

"We like totally can't unkink the kink," finished the youngest.

A moment of contemplative silence fell heavily upon the trio. The silence held until broken by the middle-aged woman.

"If it keeps growing, it will warp the tapestry," said the red-head, as she placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of the youngest. When silence met her statement of the obvious, she added, "What do we do?"

"Our jobs," spat the crone.

The maiden let loose with a dejected sigh. "That's like totally boring."

Her only response was the eldest striking her on the ankle with the cane.

* * *

Rose awoke the next morning fifteen minutes before her alarm brayed its annoying tune. Yawning with arms extended overhead in a delicious stretch, she felt remarkably refreshed and happy. A smile worked its way onto her face and refused to budge. She nearly danced her way through the morning ablutions, dressed in her habitual jeans and t-shirt, and hopped down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Good morning, love," said Jackie, pressing a glass of orange juice into Rose's hand.

"Mornin' Mum," replied Rose, taking the juice and engulfing her mother in a hug.

"What's that for?" asked a surprised Jackie.

Rose pulled away and snagged a piece of toast from the plate on the counter. Shrugging, she took a bite of charred bread and said, "No reason."

"Well, you're in a fine mood today, I must say."

Rose smiled and nodded. "I am, actually."

"To what do we owe this miracle, then?" asked Pete as he came into the kitchen, dressed in a business suit. Leaning over he gave Rose a peck on the cheek before reaching for some coffee.

"Oh shush," chided Jackie

Though they did not discuss it much, her parents were fully aware of her bouts of insomnia when the full moon shone in the night sky. Rose noticed her mother carefully watching for any signs of a restless night.

"No miracle," said Rose. "I just feel… good. That alright?"

"'Course it is," Jackie said, casting a reproving glance at Pete. "It's just been awhile."

"I know, Mum. I haven't meant to be a gloomy Gus."

"No worries, sweetheart." Jackie reached out and clasped her daughter in another hug. "We're just glad to see you feeling better. Aren't we Pete?"

"No doubt," he said with a grin. "I just hope we will still be seeing you smile after a day at the office."

Rose beamed and gave Pete a wink. "I feel so good today that not even the mounds of paperwork given to me by the Executive Director of Torchwood could get me down."

"That remains to be seen," said Pete good-naturedly.

Rose made sure to proclaim her extreme dislike of paperwork loudly and at every available opportunity. She liked to be on the move; she much preferred to be in the middle of the action than behind a desk. Adjusting to life in one place had been difficult, though the amount of travel required by the job helped, but paperwork was a necessary evil of any bureaucracy. Sitting still was hard; sitting still while doing boring and tedious paperwork was nearly unbearable.

"Speaking of work," said Rose, emptying her juice glass in several big gulps, "we need to get a move on, don't we boss?"

Pete looked at his watch. "Yeah, guess we do." Finishing the last bit of breakfast, he gave first little Tony and then his wife kisses. "Have a good day Jacks."

"You too," Jackie replied, ushering both her husband and her daughter out the front door to the waiting limo. "Call me if you're going to be late."

"Will do, Mum!" Rose waved as the car pulled out of the driveway.

The drive to the office was uneventful. Pete and Rose chatted about mundane things as they rode in comfort; Tony's first tooth coming in, Jackie's new hairstyle, Mickey's new girlfriend, the latest office gossip. The miles to the office seemingly flew by, and it wasn't long before they had each passed through security and entered the elevator. Parting amiably, Pete let Rose off on the 10th floor before heading to the top himself.

Rose walked down the corridor towards her office. The floor was quiet; it still being too early for the work rush, her only companions were the whirring of the air conditioning and the hum of computer equipment. She unlocked her door and pushed her way inside.

Her office wasn't particularly large; Pete had offered to find her a bigger space, but Rose had politely declined. Her office was not the biggest one in the building, but her corner space had a long row of windows on two sides which afforded her a picturesque view of the skyline.

It was the closest she could get to a space that was bigger on the inside.

Collapsing onto her desk chair, she gave a small push and enjoyed the sensation of traveling 360 degrees. Smiling to herself, she grabbed her mouse and moved it slightly. The computer screen flickered to life, and she typed in her password. The machine quickly booted, and the smile dropped from her face like a lead balloon.

Mickey, attempting to be helpful, had found a picture of the TARDIS in the Torchwood archives and had converted it into the wallpaper for her computer. At first, it had been painful seeing the silhouette of that blue box every day, but as time went on, Rose found herself cherishing the image. It kept the memories fresh and alive, and Rose clung to those with a nearly rabid fierceness. Besides a worn yale key she always wore, her memories were all she had left.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Rose could only stare at the image on her screen. It was still the picture of the TARDIS, but scrawled in white across the side were the words "Bad Wolf". Her heart raced and her fingers involuntarily tightened on the mouse.

She knew those words. She knew what they meant.

One hand rose to cover her eyes, and Rose turned away. There was no possible way those words could be there. She had to be imagining things, right?

Blinking several times, she cautiously looked at the screen. The two words still blazed white against the blue box.

Rose jumped up from the chair, nearly in a panic. What did this mean? The end of the world? Was the Doctor coming?

During her frenzy, the calendar on the desk caught her eye. Reaching forward, she ripped away the page from yesterday and stared at the date for today. April 1st. The Day of the Fool.

Nervous laughter bubbled up from her chest as she realized that Mickey must be playing a practical joke on her. She settled herself in the chair and took several calming breaths. Oh, Mickey had gotten her good with this one, but she would be damned if she would let him know. And, of course, she was now obligated to get him back, but what to do?

She stared at the words for a couple of minutes before a wicked smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards exposing her teeth and incisors that looked unnaturally sharp. Grabbing the phone, she punched in an extension and impatiently tapped her fingers on the desk while waiting for the other party to answer.

"Jake? It's Rose. How would you like to team up with me for a Fool's Day joke on Mickey?"

* * *

"I can so!" The brown mop of hair on the Doctor's head stood straight up in indignation.

"You?" Donna asked incredulously. "Need I remind you what happened the last time?"

"Biscuits were on the list!" he cried, protesting his innocence. His voice was loud enough to attract several pairs of curious eyes as people entered and exited the grocery. Admittedly, it was rather hard not to stare, positioned as they were beside the shopping carts right inside the front door.

Donna rolled her eyes. "The list said two packets of biscuits. Two! You came back with twenty! Are you the only genius in the universe who can't count?"

One hand tugged lightly at his left ear. "Well," the Doctor started, giving the word more syllables than nature had ever intended, "it was for an experiment. A scientific experiment."

Donna raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor hurried his explanation. "While on the biscuit aisle, faced with the huge number of selections, and believe you me there were tons of choices, I realized that I had no way of judging which would be the best. There were many factors to consider: taste, texture, ingredients, sugar content, filling, and shape. All can contribute to the overall enjoyment experience of the biscuit…"

The Doctor glanced at Donna to see if she was buying any of this. Judging by the fact that Donna now had both eyebrows raised, it was probably safe to conclude that she was not pleased. The Doctor gave an audible gulp before ending his monologue. "And…and…it was an experiment. Completely scientific."

"They went stale before we could eat them all," Donna said disapprovingly.

"Yes, well," replied the Doctor, his hand now rubbing the back of his neck as if some chilly gust had just breezed down his spine. "Perhaps I did overdo it just a bit. But it was all in the name of science."

Donna heaved a sigh that held considerable traces of the same exasperation parents around the globe experience when trying to get a five year old down the cereal aisle. "Oh, alright," she grumbled. Pulling the list from her pocket, she made a great show of tearing it in half. She glanced at one half and then the other before proffering part of the list to the Doctor.

He snatched it with eager hands and a broad smile. Giving it a quick read, he noted that she had handed him the half of the list that did not contain biscuits. Undaunted, he snagged himself a shopping basket, and flashed an impertinent grin. "Race ya!" Taking to his heels, he dashed away from Donna and into the many aisles of gastronomic delights.

"Oi!" replied Donna, scrambling to get hold of her own cart. "Cheating wanker," she mumbled as she hurried to gather the items on her part of the list.

Fifteen minutes later a smiling Time Lord suspiciously emerged from the snack cake aisle to find Donna already waiting for him near the registers.

"Ha!" she cried smugly as he approached. "Beat you, Space Man!"

The Doctor conceded defeat. "Yes, you certainly did. And what would you like as your reward?" He moved around her, trying to hide his groceries from her with the front of his body. "Breakfast at sunrise on Solara? A trip to a pleasure planet?"

"Not so fast." The steel in her voice stopped him cold. "Let's see."

"What?"

"Show me your basket," she demanded, speaking slowly and clearly. She moved to the left, her head craning over his shoulder, trying to see his selections.

The Doctor clutched the shopping basket protectively to his chest. "No, it's alright Donna. I got what was on the list."

"Then I'm sure you won't mind showing me," she replied, darting quickly to the right.

The Doctor anticipated the move and twirled around quickly, keeping his back between Donna and his precious culinary delights. "Don't you trust me?"

"No," was the quick reply.

The Doctor dodged left, only to find his momentum abruptly halted by a pain in the back of his leg as Donna slammed her cart into his thigh. Once he stopped moving, she jumped to the front and laid a hand on his basket.

"Oi!" he cried indignantly, free hand rubbing the injury, "that's cheating! And it hurt!"

"Don't be such a baby," Donna scolded, taking stock of his grocery selections. Surprisingly, the Doctor had gotten all the items on the list, with only one major addition. "Doctor," she started, eyeing the item in question with distaste, "I know cakes with edible ball bearings were not on the list."

Expecting some sort of flippant comment, or a long-winded speech about how the little cakes in his basket would, in fact, save the world, she was surprised when she received no response at all. Looking up, she saw the Doctor staring into her shopping cart as if it contained a slew of baby spiders.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor suddenly dropped his basket, and it crashed to the floor. Donna winced, grateful eggs had not been on his part of the list. Swiftly, he reached forward and pulled something out of her cart and waved it in front of her face.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded, an intensity in his gaze that unnerved her.

Confused, she pointed to the aisle where the item had rested. The Doctor took off like a shot, Donna trailing on his heels.

"Doctor, what's wrong? It's just some new health drink. I figured it wouldn't hurt to try it with all the running we do."

The display area for this new tonic was small and mostly empty. In fact, only two cans remained. They were surrounded by empty shelving, as if the item was repulsive and the other drinks were doing their best to give it a wide berth.

The Doctor gingerly placed the can in his hand next to its mates. When the Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver, Donna gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. "Oh no. It's not… I wasn't about to drink aliens, was I?"

The Doctor, who was studying the readings from the screwdriver, glanced at her. "What? Don't be ridiculous, Donna. This isn't alien-in-a-can. At least, I don't think so."

Quickly reaching forward, he grabbed one of the cans, popped the top and took a swallow. His cheeks puffed out as he swished the beverage in his mouth before swallowing it down. "Nope," he said, putting the now opened can back on the shelf. "Not alien-in-a-can. Though I can certainly understand why you might think so considering the taste." His mouth screwed up with disgust.

"Then what is it?" Donna demanded.

Flipping settings on the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor aimed it the shelving. It buzzed loudly. The Doctor consulted the readings one last time and then popped the tool back into his pocket. "Something that shouldn't be here," he said resignedly, "It's impossible."

"I don't understand," said Donna.

"The smiling visage of the man you see on that can is one Pete Tyler. He designed Vitex, though I certainly see why it never took off on this world." He stuck out his tongue in a hideous grimace. "Blech!"

Donna picked up on one word. "Tyler?"

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Yes. Rose Tyler's dad from the alternate world."

"But how-?"

"A hole. A tiny one. A fixed one," he replied. His shoulders slumped as he grabbed the cans of Vitex, the contents of the open one sloshing over his hand and onto the floor. "Come on," he said tiredly, "we need to get back to the TARDIS."

He brushed past her walking towards the registers. He was hyper aware of the concerned glances Donna kept tossing in his direction as they checked out and walked back to the TARDIS. The question he dreaded did not come until they were back inside the time ship.

"Are you…alright?" she asked, squeezing his arm gently.

"Of course," he said offhandedly. "I'm always alright."

Donna snorted. "Liar."

To this statement of truth, the Doctor had no answer.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Atropos," called Lachesis, "I've got news."

Atropos looked up from the console to see Lachesis wobbling towards her on heels that were hot pink and precariously high. The brightly colored beehive swayed dangerously in synch with her gait.

"It's –" started Lachesis, slightly out of breath from her short trip across the white marbled chamber.

Atropos raised one wrinkled hand, forestalling any additional information. "Wait," she barked with irritation, "let me guess. The anomaly involves the PW worlds."

Lachesis nodded, her beehive teetering forward with the movement. "V1 through V5 thus far."

The old woman sighed deeply. "Is it him?" She grimaced as if the word tasted bad. "That time traveling git always makes our job more difficult."

"Clotho and I checked that first once we realized which worlds were involved." Lachesis grabbed the console to steady her balance. "We are looking deeper, but at first glance, this does not appear to be his fault."

"Not him?" Atropos asked disbelievingly. It wasn't possible. There was no one in the multiverse that caused more disruptions to the tapestry than him. "Are you sure?"

"As I said, we are still looking."

The responding nod was automatic. "Keep at it. Thus far, the walls are intact but the number of holes is increasing at an exponential rate." She looked at Lachesis, her eyes troubled. "I've never seen anything like it."

"It'll be alright," said Lachesis. "Well figure it out." She patted the old woman on the shoulder before tottering off, her heels tapping an irregular rhythm on the floor. "We always do."

"But," muttered Atropos under her breath, "if it isn't him, then -?" She rubbed a hand tiredly over her face. "What could be worse than a Time Lord?"

* * *

Rose peered around the corner, relying on the shelter of the restaurant doorway to keep her body and Jake concealed. Her brown eyes carefully scanned each person coming down the street. When she saw Mickey, she gave a wicked smile.

"Here he comes," she said, pulling back to face Jake. "You ready?"

Jake puckered his mouth and made a loud kissing noise. "Yep." He looked down at Rose. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Of course! I have to get him back! And this will be perfect so long as you play your part."

Jake sniffed. "I'm just as capable of acting as you."

"Then you'd better start, 'cause here he comes."

The swiftness with which Jake locked his lips on her own took Rose by surprise. She wrapped her arms around him and imagined it was the Doctor she held so tightly, relying on wishful thinking to make her actions convincing.

So engrossed was she in her fantasy, that she did not pull away until the distinct sound of someone loudly and pointedly clearing their throat in her ear distracted her. Turning towards Mickey, she overtly grabbed Jake's hand.

"Micks!" said Jake, giving him a good natured slap on the back and beaming a lovesick smile.

"Mickey," Rose said, nearly exuding happiness, "I'm so glad you came. Let's go inside. Jake and I have something to tell you."

"Yeah, I can see that, thanks," replied Mickey drily. "How long has this been going on?"

Rose waved at him, indicating he should wait until they were seated before asking a bunch of questions. Mickey subsided temporarily, and the trio was ensconced in a booth within short order. Rose sat so close to Jake that it was entirely possible they had been fused together at the hip.

Grabbing Jake's hand, she ensured their clasped digits rested in plain sight on the table. Once the waitress had deposited full water glasses and left with their orders, Rose beamed a carefully calculated smile at Mickey. She filled it with one part happiness, one part embarrassment, and one part regret.

"Jake and I have been secretly seeing one another for a couple of months now," she began. Eyes downcast, she added, "We are sorry we didn't tell you earlier."

"That was my fault," quipped Jake. He released her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her further into his embrace. "Can you imagine what folks would say if they found out I was boinking the boss's daughter?"

Mickey winced, though whether at the mental image of Rose and Jake together, or the crude reference, Rose could not tell.

"Well," said Rose demurely, "we won't be able to hide it for too much longer."

Jake smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. "No, I don't suppose we will."

"Why not?" asked Mickey, his dark eyes squinting in suspicion and distaste.

The smile Rose gave was wide and bright, and Mickey gulped in response. "I'm pregnant," she said, her excitement nearly palpable.

Mickey's jaw dropped, his eyes grew wide, and the only sound he made was the wheezing groans of someone whose chest has just caved in. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, and Rose was not entirely certain he was breathing.

"Mickey," she said concernedly, "breathe!"

Jake reached across the table and slapped Mickey a few times on the back. Mickey coughed, took a long sip of water, and managed to croak out, "Congrats." His eyes flickered between Rose and Jake. Suddenly suspicious, he asked, "Wait, seriously?"

"No," replied Rose, her tongue popping out from between her teeth as she started to laugh.

"No?" Mickey asked, still trying to put the puzzle together.

"Hell no," replied Jake, joining Rose in the laughter.

"You should have seen your face," gasped Rose. "All hail Mickey, King of the Fools."

"Oi," said Mickey, "not funny."

Jake and Rose laughed harder.

"Why'd you play a trick on me?" Mickey whined.

"To get you back for the trick you played on me this morning," retorted Rose. "Don't think I didn't know it was you who messed with my computer."

The look of confusion that crossed Mickey's face was genuine. "What are you on about? I haven't touched your computer."

"Oh, come off it. Who else but you would alter my wallpaper image?"

Mickey leaned forward across the formica tabletop. "Listen to me, Rose. I did nothing to your computer."

Rose realized Mickey was in earnest, and her brow furrowed with worry. "But if you didn't…"

The waitress arrived with their order. Rose stared into the depths of the tea cup, not truly comprehending what she was seeing.

Although the aroma wafting from her cup certainly smelled like tea, the liquid sloshing inside was blue. Mickey, Jake, and Rose all exchanged wary glances. And then, each of their beepers went off in unison.

* * *

Donna stared at the image of Pete Tyler as she absently stirred a spiteful fifth heaping spoonful of sugar into a steaming mug of tea.

The Doctor had busied himself with the gadgets and screens on the TARDIS, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, and she had been left with the task of putting the groceries away. She recognized the look on the Doctor's face. Donna suspected it was one of several he carefully crafted in order to communicate to the world in general that he wanted to be left alone. She wouldn't be surprised to learn the Doctor spent hours practicing those looks in the mirror.

Course she had never paid attention to his 'Keep Away' signals before, and she certainly didn't plan on starting now. But she had learned through trial and error that he was more amenable to having his personal space invaded if she came bearing gifts, so she had made tea.

It was while she was waiting for the kettle that Pete Tyler caught her eye. Pete Tyler. Alternate world father of Rose Tyler. The Doctor didn't talk about her much, but Donna could tell her loss had hurt him deeply. She didn't know what made Rose Tyler special, but it didn't really matter. The stupid alien loved her, though he would never say it, and that was enough to make Donna curious.

Donna stared at Pete Tyler and wondered how much of his daughter was there. Were the facial features similar? The Doctor had told her Rose was artificially blonde, so obviously the hair color was different, but what about the eyes? The eyes that stared back at her from the Vitex can seemed kindly and wise, and she fancied that Rose was the same. She hoped that one day she would be given the chance to find out for certain.

She smiled at her own imagination, hefted two mugs of tea and carried them into the console room. "So, find anything interesting?" she asked, extending a tea mug.

The Doctor took it without looking up from the computer screen. He raised it to his lips and took a sip. His mouth pursed immediately. He made a loud smacking noise and reared back to look at Donna. "How much sugar did you put in this?" he demanded, brandishing the mug in front of him.

Donna looked at him innocently. "I don't remember exactly, but you did say you liked it sweet."

"Sweet? This is practically syrup!" He placed the mug to the side with distaste.

"Doctor," Donna said, her tone hard, "Are you saying you don't like my tea?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply but hesitated as he caught the hint of a smirk on Donna's face. "You…You did that on purpose!"

Donna shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "At least you're no longer moping."

The Doctor drew himself up to his full height. "Time Lords do not mope," he said with a sniff.

Donna rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Pull the other one."

"I was not moping!" he reiterated. "I was thinking really hard about where the rip might have originated," his eyes glanced over the symbols rapidly scrolling over the screen, "and why several more just opened up." He scrabbled quickly and shoved his glasses on before bending over the console for a closer look.

"That's not right," he said after a moment of silence. "More holes are appearing," he straightened to look at Donna, "and a lot of them are in the vicinity of the TARDIS."

"Is that bad?"

"Bad? Oh yes," he said. He looked at Donna his eyes flashing wildly with emotions she could not name. "Something is slowly disintegrating the barriers between the universes, and that is always bad."

Donna took a deep breath and set her tea mug on the console. "Are we talking bad or really bad?"

"Oh, it's definitely catastrophic," the Doctor replied. "And I can't pinpoint what's causing it. I know I closed all the tears the last time, so what -?"

Suddenly, the TARDIS lurched hard. Donna instinctively grabbed the console for support and just barely kept her feet. Both mugs of tea toppled over the side, the contents pouring into the grate below.

"How are we moving?" Donna demanded. "I thought we were parked!"

"We are!" shouted the Doctor, scrabbling around checking dials and levers. He abruptly stopped in front of the computer screen and stared at the numbers and squiggles rapidly scrolling over screen. "Oh, that's not good. Really, really, not good."

"Doctor, what-"

The Doctor dashed towards the door of the TARDIS, threw it open and darted outside. Donna quickly followed.

"What-?" she tried again.

"A large hole just opened near us," the Doctor replied, looking quickly all around him for what might be different. "Where is it?" he grumbled to himself.

Donna tugged lightly on his sleeve. "Doctor," she said mildly.

He pulled away from her and ran further into the street. "It has to be here somewhere!"

"Doctor!" Donna tried again.

"What?" he demanded, whirling to give her a hard glance. "I don't have time –"

"Look!" shouted Donna, pointing upward.

The Doctor followed her finger and gaped. There was a zeppelin, slowly moving across the sky. As it passed, the words printed in block letters along the side came into view. 'Bad Wolf Coming Soon,' it declared.

"That's … that's impossible!" the Doctor gawped.

"Obviously not." Donna gazed in wonder at the new addition to the London skyline. But as she read the phrase that was plastered across the side, she suddenly felt cold. And she didn't know why.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Like, Oh mah gawd!" squealed Clotho, one finger pointing at the image of the knot on the screen.

Atropos moved quickly and pressed several keys on the console. Immediately the video screen went dark and ascended into the ceiling. The lights in the vast chamber dimmed and then a large holographic projection began to form in the circular amphitheater behind the console.

It didn't take long for the full picture to appear, and the trio looked closely at a small part of the tapestry in three dimensions; innumerable threads in a wide variety of colors extended in all directions. The tendrils wound and curled around one another in an intricate pattern that resembled a spider web. The growing golden clump seemed to perch in the center of the web, pulsing as if it had a heartbeat.

"Do you see it?" whispered Clotho. She stepped quickly around the console and descended the steps into the viewing theater. Extending one finger she tentatively touched a thread that glowed purple. Following the thread with her finger, she traced its inexorable route into the center of the web. The closer she got to the clump, the less purple the thread was, and by the time it joined the morass in the center, it had turned golden like all the rest.

Atropos drew a sharp breath. "It sucked in an F class world."

"That's, like totally not supposed to be possible."

"No," replied Lachesis, "it isn't. Like attracts like, and there is very little similarity between Earth and the planet of the Farinzians."

Atropos stared at the tapestry; Clotho and Lachesis stared meaningfully at Atropos. A tense silence descended in the control room, the weight of the decision to come weighing upon them all.

"How many?" Atropos asked her voice rough. Her knuckles turned white on the head of her cane as her other hand clutched at the large shears on her belt.

"Eighteen worlds thus far," replied Lachesis. "Roughly one trillion souls."

All sound seemed to stop. The humming of the equipment faded into the background and the rustling of clothing ceased. No one blinked. No one breathed. It seemed that even the universe caught its breath waiting for the decision.

"No," said Atropos, her hand dropping from her shears. "It is too many."

Sound rushed back as the universe sucked in a grateful breath.

"Are you sure?" asked Lachesis, glancing at her compatriot. "We will not be able to contain it. Not anymore."

Atropos wiped a heavy hand across her eyes. "I am sure," she said softly. "The opportunity for us to fix this by crude methods passed when it absorbed something besides an alternate. Before, we had a chance to collapse the Earth alternates and save the tapestry. We've waited too long."

"Like, now what?" demanded Clotho.

The crone glared at the maiden. "Now," she spat, "we ask for help."

Clotho's eyes grew wide and her hand covered her mouth in astonishment. "You totally don't mean –"

"Surely not –" added Lachesis.

Atropos hung her head like a woman defeated, and she rapped her cane on the floor in frustration. "Yes, damn it!" Her sigh of resignation seemed to bounce off the marble walls like an ancient wind. "I'm afraid we have no other choice."

* * *

"Jerks!" grumbled Rose, rapping her hand hard on the steering wheel. "Leaving me to get the crap detail."

The jerks in question were Mickey and Jake. Responding to the electronic summons revealed that Torchwood had detected three different time-space anomalies in and around London. Jake and Mickey had been a tad bit faster with dialing in than Rose and each had claimed an incident site in London, leaving Rose with a long and boring drive into the country.

Glancing at the GPS system mounted to the dashboard, Rose noted that she was finally near her destination. Pushing aside her anger, she prepared to face the unknown. A shiver of excitement traveled down her spine. She hoped that whatever she was about to experience proved to be more thrilling than the sites inside the city. That would show them!

Leaving the road, she navigated the Range Rover across a large pasture until the GPS indicated she had reached her destination. Parking the car, she got out and took a long look around. She saw a few cows nibbling contentedly on green blades of grass, and a whole lot of empty space.

Rose chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. "Maybe the cows are alien?" she asked the space around her.

Closing the car door, she carefully treaded towards the docile animals, taking care to avoid stepping in any dark and smelly piles. She drew herself close enough to the cows to take a quick bioscan. The handheld device clearly indicated that the cows were of the normal earth variety and not alien.

Frustrated, she scanned the area again. There had to be something here, right? Torchwood wouldn't send her out into the middle of nowhere, would they? A dark suspicion formed in her mind. They would if the Executive Director was playing a Fool's Day joke on his daughter!

Rose whirled around and stomped in the direction of the car. When she got hold of Pete, she was going to…

Something suddenly spooked the cows. With loud bellows and the thunder of hooves, the small herd ran off in the opposite direction from Rose. Slowly, she turned around to look at the fleeing animals, trying to detect what had scared them.

It was then she saw it. Something very large was blocking the sunlight, and the shadow was inching forward, slowly engulfing the area. Her head craned towards the sky; Rose gasped and dropped the bioscanner from her hand.

There, hovering in the blue sky was an island. Rose could see the rocky promontories jutting earthward from beneath the top of this land mass, and as her eyes followed the dark land upwards, she could just see a flat top. On the crust graceful spires rose towards the heavens and glittered in the sunlight like diamonds.

It was breathtaking and completely impossible, and she could not tear her eyes away. Squinting in the sunlight and trying to peer through the wispy clouds, more details became apparent of this city of the sky. There were silver trees with majestic branches reaching towards the sun, and smaller buildings which seemed to huddle around the glimmering towers. Dark shapes flowed like water between the buildings, and to Rose it seemed the very land shifted and undulated with movement.

As she gaped a large form broke free from the tallest citadel and took to the air. From this distance the figure looked like a bird, and Rose watched in awe as it extended its broad wings and slowly circled the floating island.

After one pass, the figure began a leisurely descent, and unless Rose missed her guess, it was headed right for her. A tinge of worry trickled down her spine. What if the alien was hostile? Looking hard at the alien as it flew to meet her, Rose noticed that it was not in any hurry and seemed to be giving her enough time to prepare for his arrival.

Squashing the urge to turn and run, Rose instead straightened, ran a quick hand over her hair, and plastered on a smile. Best give this alien the benefit of the doubt. Besides, she was fast and relatively close to the car. If this alien proved to be hostile, she could dive under the vehicle for cover. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

Standing in what she thought was a dignified pose for a representative of the human race to an alien species, she carefully watched as he drew closer. The sunlight glinted off feathers colored a brilliant blue, and Rose could see tinges of red near the head and throat. Though certainly avian in nature, what she had initially thought was part of the person's body was actually humanoid legs held next to each other during flight.

The wind gusted with the powerful movement of large wings as he landed and Rose's previously smoothed hair blew wildly. Once fully grounded, the alien stared curiously at Rose; she returned the favor.

Standing, he was easily seven feet tall and Rose had to look up at him. Where humans would have fingers and toes, this person had talons instead, and his shoulders were articulated strangely. As he stretched his wings and then pulled them against his body, Rose could see that where her arms were separated from her torso, his were connected by large folds of feather-covered skin.

The alien gave a bird-like cock of his head, bringing her attention upward. He did not appear to have ears, at least not in the human sense, and in place of his mouth was a broad and sharply hooked beak.

The sight of the beak pulled Rose from her intense scrutiny of the alien. Her smile drooped as she realized that her staring could be construed as hostile and possibly even rude.

Recollecting herself, she brightened her smile. "Hello," she said tentatively. "I'm Rose Tyler." She drew herself up and squared her shoulders. "As an official representative of the people who live here, I must ask you to state your intentions."

He was silent and stared at her with beady eyes. Rose began to fidget. She wondered if he could understand her, and even if he could, would she be able to understand him? It was not the first time she had longed for the translation circuit on the TARDIS, and each time the feeling of loss cut her to the quick.

"Do not fret, Golden Mother. All will be well."

Silence had reigned so long between them that when he did speak it surprised her. His voice was dual-toned, and her brow furrowed with the effort to understand what she was hearing. On the surface level, her ears detected chirps and warbles issuing from his beak, but in her mind the words were understandable and the tone was deep and sonorous and most definitely male.

"Sorry?" she floundered. "I'm not –"

The bird-man shook himself and then extended each wing fully. One leg moved forward and he bent over in what Rose supposed was a bow. On the spectrum of alien interactions that was certainly a good sign.

"I am Zaizan, Golden Mother, and I am pleased to meet you now and again."

Rose blinked. Questions filled her mind, each clamoring to be the first asked as Zaizan straightened. Why did he call her Golden Mother? Did it have something to do with her hair color? How could he possibly have met her before? Were all his people so brilliantly colored? Could she manage to dive under the car before this Zaizan carried her off with his very large and very pointy talons?

"I…I-" she stuttered. "Have we met?"

Zaizan bobbed his head in what Rose assumed was agreement. "Yes, Golden Mother. I have been given the honorable task of delivering unto you a message."

Rose felt thick and was positive she sounded it too. "Message?"

Again, Zaizan bobbed his head. "You will choose this unworthy one to deliver the precious words."

Rose felt her brain catch up to what she was hearing. "Wait," said Rose, "you're saying you know me from the future and that I sent you back here to tell myself something?" It had been so long since Rose had been forced to deal with time travel that the idea immediately seemed ridiculous. She bit her lip hard to hold back a snort of laughter.

Zaizan cocked his head as if he was thinking through his answer. "Yes, and no," he finally replied. "Time is circular, not linear. What was, is, and will be again."

"Now I'm really confused," said Rose, her arms folding themselves across her chest. "Did I send you or not?"

"You did, you are, and you will."

"Lot of help, that," she said. Deciding that was as good an answer as she would get, she added, "Well, let's have it then."

Zaizan moved closer to her, his demeanor turning from calm patience to urgency. "Time is circular, not linear," he repeated. "Life follows death, and birth follows destruction. You must follow the path of your heart; follow the path of the Bad Wolf."

Rose visibly paled and a trembling hand rose to cover her mouth. "Bad Wolf?" she gasped. "What do you know of the Bad Wolf? Did the Doctor send you?"

Zaizan cocked his head and chomped his beak open and closed, as if trying to understand the question. "Bad Wolf is the Golden Mother; the Golden Mother is the Bad Wolf. The Golden Mother sends this unworthy one to herself."

Fear danced behind her eyes as Rose considered his statement. Visions of reapers crashed into her mind, and she had to fight to keep her voice steady as she raised a shaking hand to point at the island. "Am I up there, now?"

The bird-man stretched his neck and face towards the sky and released a loud warble. To Rose, it sounded as if Zaizan was laughing at her. When he looked down at her, she thought she detected amusement in his beady eyes. "Do not fret, Golden Mother. Reapers will not come."

Eyes wide with surprise, Rose gasped and took a step backward. It was unnerving to have her thoughts known before expressing them.

"Please," entreated Zaizan, "allow me to complete my most noble of missions. Then there will be understanding."

Before she could say anything further, Zaizan clutched at his chest with his hands. A tiny glint of something twinkled in the sunlight, and as he removed his hands, she saw a gold chain around his neck half hidden by feathers. Zaizan unhooked something from the chain and then bowed again, this time with wings tucked at his side. There, carefully resting in his hands as if it was the most precious thing in the universe was a data crystal.

Approaching carefully, Rose took the item, and held it tightly in her hand. Stepping back to allow Zaizan room to straighten, she looked up at him. "Thank you," she said with sincerity.

"It is my past and forever honor to serve the Golden Mother. I await our meeting with pleasure." He bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and pushed against the air with his powerful wings. Again buffeted by the wind, Rose watched with awe as he soared into the blue sky, the hard edge of the crystal biting into her palm. Zaizan returned to the tallest spire, and as Rose gaped, there was a bright flash. When she opened her eyes, the island was gone.

* * *

"Hurry up!" shouted Donna as she pushed with all her might against the door. There was the sound of something large and heavy and angry smacking into the wood, and despite her best efforts, the door opened several inches. "I can't hold it," she cried, the shrill note of fear carrying her voice above the deep reverberating snarls.

"Here," said the Doctor, reaching her side. With a great heave, he shoved the worm-rotted hulking remains of an upright piano in front of the door. Donna nimbly jumped out of the way and together they finished wedging the instrument into place.

Panting, Donna stepped back and waited. The oak door creaked and groaned as the creature outside shoved hard, once, twice, and a third time. Mercifully, the large piece of furniture securing their safety held fast.

There was a rage-filled howl of frustration, and the menace in the cry made Donna's hair stand on end. Silence broke loudly and Donna held her breath.

When her ears detected nothing but silence for several minutes, she relaxed just enough to turn to the Doctor. "Are we safe?" she whispered.

"For now," he replied just as softly. "I think."

Donna nodded, accepting his answer. Still, they both stood unmoving, staring at the front door as if expecting it to be wrenched open at any moment.

"So," Donna said after several more minutes of nothing happening, "Werewolves."

"Yep."

"In Scotland."

"Yep."

"That you've encountered before."

"Yep."

"And didn't think to mention until we were already running."

"Ye-," the Doctor started. "Ah." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "To be fair – ".

The rest of his sentence was swallowed up by the rasping sound of claws being dragged purposefully across wood. The scraping started at the door and then slowly moved to the left, towards the nearest window, a window that only provided a thin pane of glass as protection from the horror outside.

Donna gasped even as the Doctor sprinted to the casement, pulling his sonic screwdriver from his pocket as he went. He quickly adjusted the settings and aimed it at the glass frame.

There was the sound of something pounding into the wood, followed by an electric zap and a piercing yelp of pain. The heavy tread of paws on wood shook the floorboards beneath their feet, but then all was quiet.

Donna sucked in air. "What is it? What happened?" Her voice was a choked whisper.

"Bars," replied the Doctor in a similar soft tone. "Iron bars."

"What?"

"Security bars," he replied moving to the next window. "The iron looks worn and rusted, but it appears they block every opening." He used the screwdriver and moved on to the next, his brow furrowed in thought. "It seems the previous occupants were scared of something."

"What are you doing?"

At this, the Doctor paused and tossed her a grin. Wiggling the sonic screwdriver, he said, "Applying an electric charge to the metal. It is only temporary, but should make the creature think twice about trying to break in."

"Or it just might make it more angry!" hissed Donna.

The Doctor ignored her and made quick work of the four windows in the parlor. "Here," he said to Donna, "take this." He shoved a hand deep into his jacket pocket and rooted around for a moment. Withdrawing his hand, he shoved a large flashlight at her.

Her hands automatically took the torch, but she looked askance at him.

"I'm going to go charge the rest of the grates, and see if they are also on the upstairs windows. Stay here."

"What? You are not leaving me alone!"

The Doctor placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her terrified eyes. "It's alright Donna. I won't be a tic. While I'm gone, see if you can find out something about the people who abandoned this place."

"Is it important?" Donna could not help the tremor in her voice.

He nodded. "It could be."

The Doctor pulled her into a hug and Donna was positive he could feel the tiny tremors that coursed through her body. She was grateful he made no comment.

Pulling back, he looked at her once more, his face full of earnestness and concern. "You will be safe here, Donna. I promise. You can do this. And if you do see anything out of the ordinary, feel free to scream."

Donna rolled her eyes. "No worries there." She paused for a moment, and then added uncertainly, "You won't be gone long?"

"Nope. Back in a minute."

She watched as he bounded from the room. "You better be," she called after him. A shiver traveled the length of her spine as soon as he was out of sight, and she hurriedly switched on the torch.

The full moon cast a faint glow, but the brighter light of the torch brought the details of the room to life. Donna stood in the front parlor of an old farmhouse. A camel-back sofa upholstered in a dizzying print faced two high-back chairs, neither of which appeared comfortable. A low coffee table sat between them tilted at an odd angle. When Donna looked closer, she could see that one leg was broken. Broken, too, was the lone rocking chair. A large fireplace took up the entire east wall, and above the mantle was a large cracked piece of silvered glass encased in a gaudy gilt frame.

Dust lay in thick layers over everything, and as the beam of the torch played over dim shapes, Donna could see smaller signs that whoever had lived here had left in an extreme hurry – a book lay open and discarded, a delicate tea set lay collapsed on the floor near the coffee table. Donna could even see a dark brown stain on the wood floor, no doubt the dried remains of tea.

When the light played over the mirror, Donna stopped. An unknown hand had written a message into the thick layer of grime that clung to the silvered glass. She carefully traced the letters, deciphering the missive.

"Bad Wolf," she muttered under her breath. "Doc-," she began.

The room behind her suddenly grew bright, as if night had suddenly turned to day. Slowly, Donna turned around, her eyes wide with fright.

A blonde woman sat quietly on the far corner of the couch reading a book. She was dressed in the sort of clothes Donna was used to seeing on the young women in London – jeans, t-shirt, and trainers. She looked for the entire world as if she belonged, like a fixture in the old farmhouse.

"Hello?" said Donna, taking a tentative step forward.

The woman put a finger in her book to mark her page and looked up at Donna with kindly brown eyes. She said nothing, merely looked at Donna with inquisitiveness.

Donna smiled hesitantly and took another step forward. "I'm Donna," she started.

A dark shadow darted behind the sofa. Horrified, Donna watched as the figure of a large and menacing wolf rose up behind the young lady. Its fur was as black as pitch, and its fangs gleamed white as pristine snow as it opened its large maw.

Donna extended a hand towards her. "Oh my god!" she screamed. "Run!"

The girl's eyes crinkled in confusion, as if she were trying to understand the message Donna was sending. She did not have long to consider.

The wolf leaned over the woman and clamped its jaws on the junction of neck and shoulder. At the first touch of teeth, the woman closed her eyes, peaceful acceptance on her face. There was the sound of tearing skin and the crunch of bone, and a long jet of blood spewed into the air.

The creature lifted the girl and shook her in its deadly maw as if she weighed no more than a feather. The limp legs cracked into the low table and the tea service slid across the polished surface onto the floor. Satisfied the woman was dead, the wolf tossed the corpse aside. Blood began to pool, mixing with the spilt tea.

Donna screamed and fell backward onto her rump, the flashlight rolling from her hand, casting erratic beams of light. The creature looked at her with red glowing eyes and Donna felt certain she could see her own death looking back at her.

"Donna!"

The voice seemed to come from a long way off, and Donna paid no heed. She scrabbled backwards trying to get away from the wolf, which was even now padding towards her, fresh blood dripping from its sword-like teeth….

"Donna!" A hand landed on her shoulder and suddenly night returned. Gone were the wolf and its mangled victim. All that remained were the tilted coffee table, broken china, and a horrid brown stain.

"Donna!" said the Doctor again. "What is it?"

Donna turned toward the voice and saw the concerned face of the Doctor. "Oh!" she exclaimed, before smacking him hard on the arm. "You stupid git! You took too long!"

The Doctor wrapped his arms around her trembling form. "It's OK. You are safe now." He continued cooing reassurances at her until the tremors subsided.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked.

Donna pulled out of his embrace and pointed at the terrible dark stain on the floor. "I saw it! The wolf! It killed her!"

"Killed who?"

"How should I know?" she snapped. "She was sitting on the couch." Donna shuddered. "That…that monster just bit through her like it was nothing! And then it came after me!"

Brow furrowed with thought, he rose and crossed over to the couch. He prodded the broken remnants of a teacup with a toe, then crouched down and put on his glasses. The Doctor stared intently at the ugly brown splotch. Donna watched as he scrubbed at it with a finger and then popped the digit into his mouth.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Hmm," he replied. "I taste dust, tannins, sucrose and just a hint of citric acid." He looked intently at Donna. "It's a tea stain, Donna."

Indignation swelled in her chest. "I know what I saw!" she shouted. "Look here, Doctor –"

The Doctor stood and raised his hands in surrender, cutting her off in mid-rant. "I believe you."

Donna blinked. "You do?"

"Of course I do." The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced on his toes. "I can feel eddies of disturbed time and space blow across my skin right here. See?" He pulled out a hand and showed it to her. "The hair on the back of my manly hands is standing straight up."

Donna looked at him skeptically. "Sure it isn't a breeze blowing up your skirt?"

"There's no need to be rude," said the Doctor hypocritically.

Donna scoffed and felt around for the flashlight. Pulling herself to her feet, she said, "That's rich coming from you."

"I'm not always rude."

Donna gave him a look.

"Anyway," said the Doctor, "it is possible you saw a shift in time, like a movie reel of past events, and if that is the case, then we know what the people here were afraid of."

"Werewolves?" offered Donna.

"Werewolves," agreed the Doctor.

"But after we saw the zeppelin and all the alarms in the TARDIS went off, you said that the tear had only just appeared." Donna blinked at him confusedly.

"It had," replied the Doctor, "for us. There is no telling where in the timeline it had opened up though. Could have been yesterday, or could have been decades ago."

Donna shook her head. "No, the woman I saw wasn't dressed like an old timey farmer's wife."

The Doctor cocked his head and stared at her intently. "What did she look like?"

"Well, she was sort of bl-. Oh!" she exclaimed, "I almost forgot!"

She shone the light of the torch on the mirror, its beam weaving an erratic pattern over the glass. "I saw the words "Bad Wolf" rubbed into the grime on the mirror," she said.

The Doctor crossed the room quickly and when he spoke, his voice was urgent and deep. "Where?"

"It was right here," Donna replied in confusion as the light illuminated a smooth and clean surface. "I'd swear, it was right here next to the crack –. Wait a minute. Where did the crack go?"

The Doctor drew so close to the glass it nearly touched his nose. "Are you sure there was a crack?"

"Positive. But it's gone now, and so are the words." Donna heaved a deep sigh. "What does it mean?"

The Doctor's face looked grim in the dim light. "I'm not sure. It could mean that time is being affected by whatever is causing the rips in space, or it could mean –"

An image suddenly flashed in the mirror. Startled, Donna and the Doctor both stepped back. As they watched, the image grew brighter and clear. Donna saw the same woman she had seen earlier, still dressed in blue jeans and t-shirt, only now she sat in the rocking chair that was no longer broken. A warm and welcoming fire burned in the fireplace, and at her feet with its head propped in her lap was the monster that had killed her.

"What?" gasped Donna. She tossed a glance behind her at the empty and shattered rocking chair. "No one is here but us! And I saw her die! What the hell is going on?"

The Doctor might as well not have ears for all the reaction he gave her comment. He stood transfixed watching the figure in the mirror as it slowly and lovingly stroked the head of the beast. "Rose," he breathed softly.

Donna looked from him to the reflected image of the woman. "That's Rose?" she asked.

The Doctor nodded.

"What's she doing in the mirror? And how did she tame that monster?"

For once, the Doctor seemed strangely bereft of words. "I don't know," he said before lunging forward and pressing his fingertips to the unyielding glass. "Rose!" he said more loudly.

This time, Rose seemingly heard him. Her rocking ceased and she raised her head, a small smile playing around her mouth. Donna watched as Rose's lips silently formed around the word 'Doctor', but it was her eyes that filled Donna with a cold fear and caused the Doctor to stumble back in shock, hands clutching his hair.

The eyes of Rose Tyler glowed as bright and as golden as the sun.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"This is, like, so stupid!" Clotho crossed her arms over her chest.

The three women were crowded around a marble pedestal that was surrounded by arcane symbols etched deeply into the floor. Resting on the pedestal that looked more like a plant stand than an object of magical ritual was a suspicious piece of paper.

Atropos signed her name with a flourish and put down the quill. "Shut it," she snapped, salting the parchment to dry the excess ink. "You know this is tradition!"

"The tradition is totally stupid," said Clotho, gathering steam. "We've got access to all kinds of technology. We could like totally send a message in a blink, but oh no, we've got to do it the traditional way."

"I like the traditions," offered Lachesis, reaching up to adjust her beehive. "They keep us true to our roots."

Clotho rolled her eyes. "Like, whatever."

Atropos carefully folded the parchment. "It is time," she said.

Pulling the shears from her belt, she held them with the sharp gleaming points upright. Carefully, she pricked her arthritic finger and blood, so dark it was nearly purple welled up. Extending the shears, she waited expectantly.

With a happy chirp, Lachesis pricked her finger in a similar fashion. Both women stared at the youngest.

Clotho huffed. "Oh, alright." Reaching forward, she similarly cut her finger. "But I still don't understand why we just, like, can't make a phone call."

"No one asked what you think," snapped Atropos. "This is unpleasant enough without you making it worse."

"Whatever."

"Just shut your gob and get on with it!"

With a sigh that bore the weight of a teenager having to deal with unreasonable adults, Clotho extended her bleeding finger. The other two women did the same. Blood dripped onto the seam of the parchment.

Once mingled, a purple light erupted from the paper, and when it faded, the letter had been sealed. Their blood had congealed into something that looked like a waxy seal, and embossed into the seal was the symbol for the Library of Fate – two epsilons turned back to back overlaid on a sunburst.

Clotho pulled back her digit and stuck it in her mouth. "Happy?" she asked resentfully, watching with a jaded eye as Atropos scribbled a name across the front of the letter.

Lachesis smiled and nodded, her hairdo wobbling to and fro. "Oh yes," she offered.

Atropos snorted. "Let's finish it."

The three women joined hands around the pedestal. They chanted in unison, their language more ancient than the universe itself. The words were lyrical and musical and held the true essence of time, and when they finished, the letter was surrounded by a bright golden glow.

When the chanting ceased and the glow faded, the missive vanished.

Lachesis smiled and clapped her hands together happily. "We're going to have company. I'd best go make a cake!"

The other two women watched Lachesis wobble off, her crinolines crunching as she went.

Atropos sighed. "It is done. Let us hope the universe will forgive us."

Clotho gave a snide snort. "Like, I'm totally more worried about the other Eternals. You know how the Big Guy gets when he's pissed."

Atropos patted her shears. "I'm not afraid of him. If he challenges me, I'll cut off something more precious to him than his lifeline."

In spite of herself, Clotho smiled. "This might not be as totally boring as I thought."

* * *

The car door slammed shut behind Rose as she clambered into the driver's seat. Reaching into the back, she pulled out her laptop and made short work of setting it up. As she waited for it to boot, she dug around in the glove box.

"Where is that thing? I know it is here some -. Aha!"

The contraption she pulled from the confines of the glove box was another Mickey-designed special. Once Torchwood learned that not every race in the universe stored data on disks, CDs or thumb drives, they put Mickey onto developing a device that could easily convert data from alien technologies in the field.

Rose plugged the device into a USB port on her laptop and carefully adjusted the prongs to fit the data crystal she had been given. Slow to read, it took more than a minute for the crystal to glow purple, and during that time Rose fidgeted. She shifted in her seat, tapped out an erratic rhythm on her leg, ran a hand through her hair, and tried not to count the seconds it took to pull the data into the computer.

When the system ceased downloading, her screen blinked twice and turned an odd shade of green. Nothing else happened.

"Oh, come on!" shouted Rose. She leaned over and adjusted the crystal reader, checking its connection to the laptop. When that didn't work, she smacked the laptop. "Work, damn you!"

The computer let loose a loud beep, and Rose nearly hit her head on the roof of the car she jumped so high. Peering at the screen, she watched as the picture went fuzzy and then slowly cleared.

She stared in shock at an image of herself, the time rotor of the TARDIS in the background. The tableau was far from tranquil. Sparks erupted from the console and the picture skewed. When it cleared, Rose could see that her alternate's hair was more than a little singed, and there was a small trickle of blood running down her face.

"Rose," said the woman on the screen, "I know this is weird, but you have to listen. It's important. The whole world is at stake."

Rose pulled herself out of a sensation of surrealism and focused on what the other Rose had to say.

"Trust Zaizan. His people travel along the threads of fate, like Time Lords but not. I know that makes no sense now, but there isn't much time..."

The alternate Rose tossed a glance behind her, as if searching for something, and then turned her attention back to the recorder.

"Oh, he'll be so angry when he finds out I've done this, but it's important. The most important thing in the universe." The Rose on the screen leaned closer to the camera in urgency. "He will try to take this burden from you. Don't let him. He cannot fix this. Only you can."

There was a shout from behind the singed Rose, and her eyes turned hard. The words tumbled forth at a faster rate, as if she were determined to finish before she could be stopped. "When the choice comes, you will be tempted to choose left. Choose right, Rose! Choose right!"

The TARDIS alarms pealed a long shrill note and an explosion rocked the alternate Rose and the camera. Static disrupted the picture; there was a shout and a scream and then the transmission abruptly ceased leaving only a green screen, two lines of text, and a blinking cursor.

Rose sat still, one hand covering her mouth in disbelief and horror. It wasn't seeing her own image or that of the TARDIS so battered that shocked her. Nor was it the high probability that the other Rose was most likely dead that made her hands tremble.

In the last brief second of the transmission before it cut out, Rose caught a glimpse of something dark and oh so familiar darting behind her alternate self – one sleeve of a battered black leather jacket.

Emotions she had thought long since buried welled up dangerously in her chest and for a moment Rose felt as if she could not get any air. Her body shook and tears she could not control trickled down her face.

It was several moments before she gave a self-deprecating and choked chuckle. Blearily she wiped the sleeve of her shirt over her eyes, smearing her mascara. "Some defender of Earth, I am," she commented, "falling to pieces like this."

She sucked in a deep lungful of air and let it out slowly. Composure mostly regained, she stared at the lines of text on her computer screen.

'Follow the Bad Wolf,' it read cryptically.

"Yeah," said Rose wetly, "got that, thanks."

The next line listed a series of coordinates and a time. Rose checked the series of numbers against the map on her GPS system. They matched her current location.

"OK, so I need to be back here in…" Rose consulted the clock on her dashboard. "Five and a half hours." Her chuckle was dry. "Of course. Five and a half hours. Sometimes, I think the universe hates me."

In the midst of the uncertain storm that was obviously brewing, Rose was positive of one thing – she wasn't sitting in a cow pasture for five and a half hours. Pushing the laptop to the side, she drew her sleeve across her eyes once again. Checking in the rearview mirror, she rubbed at the dark circles around her eyes, then turned on the ignition and put the vehicle into gear.

She remembered passing a pub not too far back and turned the car in that direction. She needed sustenance and could think of nothing better than a plate full of calorie-laden, artery-clogging chips hopefully fried to perfection. And if she decided to supplement her meal with a beer or three, it wasn't anyone's business but her own, company policy be damned.

* * *

Donna awoke with a snort that quickly turned to a sneeze as dust off the antique couch plunged up her nose.

"Well," said a voice nearby, "that's a fine good morning, being sneezed on."

Blearily, Donna opened her eyes to see the Doctor hovering over her. He looked disheveled; his clothes were rumpled, a peppering of stubble covered his chin, and dark circles hung heavy beneath his eyes.

Donna suspected she didn't look much better.

"Is it morning?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

The Doctor straightened and nodded. "Yes, Donna, we have been saved by the bright light of day. The rays of the sun have no doubt done their job and transformed the beasties back into their human forms. Well, I say human, but it's more human-like than actually human, since they are not, in fact, human."

Oh gawd, thought Donna, he's in one of _those_ moods.

After the apparition of Rose had vanished without a trace, the Doctor had turned somber. He obviously hadn't wanted to talk, but Donna refused to let him sulk in silence. The growls and scratches coming from outside were unnerving enough, and Donna was determined not to suffer quietly.

They spent many hours talking; Donna asked pointed questions, the Doctor attempted to evade, and Donna continued to ask until he relented, probably just to get her to shut up. It was excruciatingly painful for both of them – Donna worked very hard to get any information, and the Doctor relived painful memories - but in the end, when her eyes finally refused to stay open any longer, she had a greater understanding of events surrounding Rose Tyler and the depths of the Doctor's feelings and guilt.

Now it appeared he was ready to exercise his gob to the limit.

"What do you say, Donna. Shall we leg it?"

Donna glanced out a nearby window and could see the faint light of dawn turning the night into gray. "Is there nothing we can do?"

They had discussed this last night, too. The rips in space and time were too large and too numerous for one lone Time Lord and his TARDIS to repair. No, the best strategy was to stop things at the source, meaning passengers on wayward zeppelins and villagers terrorized by werewolves would have to defend themselves. Hopefully, the solution could be found quickly.

"No," said the Doctor quietly, and Donna heard clearly the regret and guilt in his voice.

"Alright." Donna pulled herself off the couch and ran a hair through her dirty hair. "I'm ready." She cut her eyes at the Doctor, "But I'm claiming the leftover pizza."

The Doctor looked affronted. "That's hardly sporting. You can't be all that hungry. We had bananas after all."

"And no telling how long they had been in your pocket. I say again, pizza. Mine."

"Well fine. I'll just eat all the delightful snack cakes with edible ball bearings."

"You do that. Can we go now?"

"Right," said the Doctor, shoving the piano out of the way and cautiously opening the door. "Donna Noble," he added, "Run!"

They burst through the door, legs pumping, arms swinging, the Doctor in the lead. Dodging the ravaged remains of several unrecognizable creatures, the pair made great haste towards the TARDIS.

They met no resistance. The countryside was deathly still. The birds were silent, and not even the sounds of insects buzzing in the air accompanied them.

The Doctor had the key to the TARDIS in his hand a good twelve feet before they reached the ship. He crashed into the front door, wrestled with the lock, and tumbled inside followed by Donna.

Once securely inside with the door shut behind her, Donna collapsed onto her knees, panting heavily.

"That," she gasped, "was an experience I never want to have again."

When the Doctor did not respond, she looked up at him. He stood next to the time rotor; glasses perched on his nose, he stared intently at a folded piece of paper propped innocently on the control console.

"What is it?" Donna demanded, slowly rising to her feet.

The Doctor gingerly picked up the letter and his brow furrowed as he ran one finger lightly over what appeared to be a wax seal. Slipping a finger gingerly beneath the seal, he pried open the letter and glanced over its brief contents.

"Someone send you a love note?" quipped Donna.

"It can't be," the Doctor breathed. "It truly is impossible."

"Doctor, I'm hungry and dirty and tired. If you don't tell me what gives in five seconds, I'm going to smack you."

Instead of responding, the Doctor turned on his heel and took off at a full run.

"Doctor!" shouted Donna, surprised. She dashed off after him without a second thought. "You've been smacked before! It isn't that bad!"

The Doctor continued to ignore her, and burst into the library, Donna right behind him. He immediately began searching the shelves with a frantic energy.

"Doctor," called Donna once again. "What is it?

"I know it has to be here somewhere. Where did I put it last?" He turned a corner to disappear down another aisle of shelving.

"AHA!"

Donna heard the triumphant shout and could only watch as the Doctor reappeared and strode to a nearby cluttered desk. With a quick motion, everything on the desk was unceremoniously shoved onto the floor.

He plunked a large and heavy leather-bound book onto the flat surface. Holding the piece of paper in one hand, he hurriedly riffled through the pages with the other.

Curious, Donna peeked over his shoulder. The book was obviously old; the leather binding was worn and its pages were turning yellow. The most interesting thing, however, was that it seemed to be filled with geometric shapes and lines instead of actual words.

"I haven't had to consult this old book since my college days," he said. "I'm surprised I remembered it was back here. Well, maybe not. I am a genius, after all."

He flashed Donna a quick grin before returning to his fevered scrutiny of the book.

"There it is!" he said, poking at a glyph on one page. "I knew I was right!"

To Donna, the symbol that so excited the Doctor looked like all the other symbols on the page, incomprehensible. "Were you?" she said sardonically. "Are you going to explain?"

The Doctor turned towards her, and she recognized the manic gleam in his eye. "This," he said, brandishing the letter in front of her face, "is an exclusive invitation to the Library."

"The Library? We've already been there. Why would we want to go back?" Donna looked distinctly unimpressed.

"Not that library!" he said with even more enthusiasm. "That library was a repository for the written word. This is the Library of Fate. It catalogs entire worlds."

"What?"

The Doctor began herding Donna out of the library and back down the hallway to the control room. "Worlds, Donna. Universes. All of them accessible."

Donna looked confused. "Last night, you said you couldn't travel between universes without the help of other Time Lords."

"In regular space, that is true. But the Library of Fate is rumored to exist outside of space and time, which is completely logical, of course. How else would they have access to everything? Every universe, every alternate, every planet, every life – all of it. This is positively brilliant." The Doctor bounced on his toes with manic energy.

"So if you knew about this before, why didn't you go there?" The rest of the question was unspoken, but understood. Why didn't you go there when you first lost Rose?

"I didn't know it existed, Donna. It was supposedly run by Eternals, and they were only myths and legends to us Time Lords. Stories about the Eternals were nothing more than tales recited verbatim in classes designed to put even the studious among us to sleep, and I was never very studious. And even if I had known it existed, the TARDIS can't get there unaided. She is a creature of the Vortex – moving out of space and time can really injure her."

"So how do we get there, then?"

"Excellent question, Donna. I'm so glad you asked! We will get there with this!"

The Doctor once again brandished the letter under her nose. "The seal! It is actually a biochip that contains all the data needed to make the jump safely. Well, mostly safe. Well, relatively safe. Well, safe with lots of help from the Eternals and a few crossed fingers and toes. And it seems only fair they keep us safe since they are asking me for assistance in saving the whole of everything." His chest puffed out with pride.

Quick as lightning, Donna reached out, snagged the letter, and shoved it into her bra.

"Donna! What are you doing?" His fingers clutched uselessly at air.

"You can have it back after I shower and get some real food. Then we will go."

Donna turned her back on the Doctor making her way purposefully to the kitchen. Halfway out of the control room, she looked back over her shoulder at the Doctor's pouty face. "You should get yourself cleaned up. If we run into Rose on this adventure, do you really want her to see you looking like you rolled around in a pig sty?"

Continuing on her way, she couldn't help but smile to herself when she heard his squawk of dismay.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Sometimes I totally wonder," said Clotho, gluing another sequin to what would become her 'badge of welcome', "if she hasn't gone round the bend. Remember what happened with Hades? He never did break his obsession with pomegranate seeds."

Atropos snorted and added another skull and crossbones to her own badge. "She is the Nurturer. We have to cut her some slack. She can't help it. I don't think Lachesis has had anyone to care for in more time than I care to measure."

Clotho picked up the glitter pen and added a curlicue. "I know, but like really? The tapestry is totally being destroyed and we are sitting here making name cards in preparation of having 'company'."

Atropos grunted and added more black with a heavy hand. "At least we get cake. Be grateful."

"She like totally makes good cakes," agreed Clotho. She put down her pen and held up her pink and extremely gaudy nametag for inspection. Tilting it this way and that she decided it didn't sparkle enough and proceeded to glue on more sequins.

* * *

Five and a half pints later, Rose was back in the cow pasture, waiting for something to happen. She didn't particularly mind waiting. On the contrary, Rose felt very loose and even a little bit happy.

Perched on the hood of the car, Rose stretched out and gazed up into the stars. The universe didn't hate her, she decided. It gave her entirely too many fun things to do to actually hate her. There was traveling with the Doctor, and working for Torchwood, and getting her Dad back, and waiting in a cow pasture for something to happen.

Yes, Rose thought with a contented sigh, the universe loved her. And at this very moment, when she was full, relaxed, and more than a little buzzed, she could honestly say that she loved the universe right back.

Filled to the brim with goodwill, Rose began counting the stars. Her cataloging was interrupted by a bright flash and the return of the floating island. It hovered in the night sky and Rose smiled.

Sliding off the vehicle, she cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, "Zaizan! Oi, Zaizan! I'm down here!"

When a dark shape pulled away from the rest and began a downward circle, Rose flapped her arms up and down, as if she could fly up to meet him. "It's me! Rose Tyler!"

Rose gave a little whoop and began running across the pasture, her arms still mimicking flight.

The flying alien swooped down behind her, gently latched its clawed feet onto each of her shoulders and pulled her upwards into the night.

"Wheee!" said Rose, watching the ground become a distant memory. "This is so much better than a barrage balloon," she called up to her escort. "Thumbs up!" She followed this statement with the action, though it was extremely unlikely the bird-man could see her gesture, or understand its significance.

Moonlight streamed from the heavens, and as Zaizan crossed the lee of the island, shadow covered them both. Making a slow circle, they climbed higher and higher into the starlight dusted night sky.

Rose watched with unabashed wonder as the crystalline spires grew closer. Sturdy spokes protruded at regular intervals along the length and breadth of the massive towers, and as she drew nearer, she could see that behind each rod was an alcove cut deep into the crystal. A winged person landed on one of the perches, walked the small distance to the doorway, and disappeared inside. Rose wondered if those were the living quarters of this wondrous people.

Zaizan climbed to the highest pinnacle and then began his descent. Rose passed effortlessly through the boughs of silver trees, and the ground was suddenly revealed to her curious eyes. The grass was a brilliant shade of red, several shades darker than the color brushing the breast and throat of many of the people they passed in their flight. She saw no paths carved through the grass – no cobblestones, no asphalt, not even a well-trod dirt lane. But, she supposed, for people born with the gift of flight, roads and pavements were likely not needed.

They were close to the ground now; Rose's feet barely skimmed the blades of grass. The wind from their passing caused the vegetation to sway and dance in the breeze.

Zaizan appeared to be taking her to the largest tower on the island. It loomed before her in the night, glowing like a beacon. Though the rest of the landscape was only illuminated by moon and starlight, this spire fairly burned with its own internal brilliance.

The only identifying marker she could see was an emblem etched deeply into the crystal. To Rose, it looked like two capital 'E's turned back to back.

Her feet lightly touched the ground and the pressure on her shoulders lifted. She glanced over at Zaizan as he landed beside her. She saw no glint of recognition in his eyes.

"Fate brings us to you, Rose Tyler," said Zaizan in that eerie dual-toned voice. "You are standing for judgment."

"What?" Rose wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Even though the alternate Rose had vouched for Zaizan, and you really couldn't get a better recommendation than one from yourself, she couldn't stop the frisson of fear that twisted her stomach. The remains of her mostly liquid dinner lurched dangerously.

"Please," Zaizan said. He swept one wing forward indicating the elaborate arch carved into the front of the building.

Rose looked from Zaizan to the beckoning archway. "Will you lead me?" she asked, giving Zaizan a nervous smile.

He bobbed his head and preceded her into the tower. Rose trailed after him, her head swiveling back and forth as she tried to see as much as possible.

Lining the walls of the expansive hallway was a series of large tapestries. Her steps slowed as she gazed in wonder at the riot of shapes and colors that bombarded her from each side. The images depicted seemed to be nearly three dimensional, and the hangings appeared to be expertly done. If Rose saw them on Earth, she would certainly call them posh.

It wasn't until she reached the end of the hallway that she realized the series of weavings told a story. Her ability to make out the tale was severely hampered by the fact that the only pictorials she could clearly see were the ones nearest the ground. Without the ability to fly, it would be near impossible to see the story in its entirety.

Disappointed, she made a mental note to ask Zaizan about it later. When she pulled her attention from the tapestries, she saw that he had exited the corridor and was standing in the room beyond, his beady eyes looking at her expectantly.

Swallowing hard, Rose entered the chamber. Again, she was struck speechless by the sheer vastness of it all. The walls of this room were polished smooth and rose so high that she could not see the ceiling.

Zaizan stood next to a round step that was elevated slightly from the rest of the floor. The platform wasn't very spock; there were no markings, no gizmos, and no flashing lights.

"Rose Tyler is stepping on the platform for judgment." The voice did not come from Zaizan.

Rose whirled around and saw five more bird-men standing in the exact center of the room. They surrounded a large round platform that seemed carved from the very substance the entire spire was made and rose up at least four feet. A smaller roundel of crystal sat in the exact center of the dais. Again, there were no switches, or buttons – the surface was as smooth as the walls.

"What for?" she demanded.

"For judgment."

Rose saw which one of the bird-men was speaking. He was taller than Zaizan and had deep blue on his throat and chest. Around his neck was a heavy golden chain from which dangled a replica of the same emblem Rose had seen on the building.

Rose tried again. "Judgment of what?"

"Fear not, Rose Tyler," said Zaizan. "He is my brood-brother Zaizin. He leads the Council of Five."

"I don't understand," said Rose, turning to Zaizan. "What is happening?"

He laid a clawed hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Fate leads us to you. We seek to examine your thread."

Rose's head hurt. Too much alcohol made her mind fuzzy around the edges, and the dual effect of their voices seemed to bounce off the insides of her skull. What she really needed was an aspirin.

"Is it safe?" she asked, conscious of all the dark eyes watching her.

"Yes," said Zaizan with an agreeing bob of his head.

"Will it hurt?" Rose asked, eyeing the small step with no little suspicion.

"No."

"OK," she said warily. "I'll do it. I trust you."

Rose marched with purpose to the small platform and before she could think about it, hopped up and planted both feet.

Immediately, a blue force field shot up from the base encircling her where she stood. Rose reached out with both hands and discovered the field was solid. She was effectively trapped.

* * *

When a gastronomically contented and freshly showered Donna entered the control room, she wore a prodigious hat.

"What are you wearing?" asked the Doctor, astonished.

Donna smiled and did a small turn, showing off the large feathers to full effect. "I did tell you that if we ever ran into a situation where a hat was needed that I was prepared."

The Doctor was flabbergasted. "What about this situation warrants so many feathers? Did they pluck an entire peacock?"

She looked at him as if he had just dribbled down his shirt. "We are meeting Eternals!" she said with a roll of his eyes. "You said yourself they were rare. If that doesn't justify a hat, then I don't know what does."

"But-"

"Besides," she continued, "I wasn't the one who spent an entire hour in front of the bathroom mirror fiddling with my hair."

The Doctor tugged on an ear. "Well, it wasn't my fault my hair wouldn't cooperate. It does seem to have a mind of its own pretty often." His eyes grew wide. "Oh, that's a horrible thought. Sentient hair? Screaming and crying every time you tried to brush it? Having arguments with it about shampoos and conditioners?"

"Oh, just stop," cried Donna, extending the invitation. "Take it already and let's get going."

The Doctor grinned and reached for the sadly abused slip of paper. His long fingers clasped eagerly over the letter and he tugged. The missive did not budge.

"Wait a minute," said Donna, suspicious. She leaned forward and inhaled deeply. A sly look entered her eyes. "Are you…is that…?

"What?" The Doctor attempted to look innocent while still clutching one half of the letter.

"Are you wearing _cologne_?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Donna. I'm not human. I have no need to camouflage my natural scent with artificially distilled perfumes."

Donna ignored him and took another whiff. A broad smile covered her face. "You are! You put on cologne!" She drew close and inspected him fully. "And look! There isn't a single stray whisker on your chin! And your clothes! They look ironed!"

"Donna," said the Doctor through gritted teeth. "Give me the letter so we can get going." He desperately tried to tug the parchment from between her fingers without causing it to rip.

Still grinning, Donna let go. "Oh yes," she said with a wink, "wouldn't want to be late, would we?"

"Er, quite right." He glanced suspiciously at Donna, surprised that she would let him off the hook so easily. When Donna did no more than smile at him, he took several cautious steps away from her, and then dashed over to the console.

"Let's see, we take this," he gingerly peeled the seal from the paper, "and put it here." Very carefully, the Doctor slipped the seal into a slot on the console and pushed the small button next to it. "And if everything goes well, we will be off!"

The time rotor slowly began to pump, and the usual green glow shifted into a deep purple. Immediately, the TARDIS began to rock violently, and its occupants scrabbled to keep upright.

"Doctor," shouted Donna above the din, "is it supposed to be this rough?"

"No idea!" replied the Doctor, a manic grin on his face.

"Not encouraging!" Donna shouted back. She let go of the railing with one hand and clasped at her hat with the other.

The TARDIS pitched and rolled sickeningly for several minutes. The motion finally ceased with a bone-jarring bang. Both Donna and the Doctor looked green.

"Oh gawd," muttered Donna, covering her mouth with one hand, "that was –".

"Yes," replied the Doctor between deep breaths through his nose, "that was…"

"Are we gonna have to do that again to get back?" asked Donna with a gasp.

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. Let's hope not."

Conversation died in the TARDIS as each person attempted to regain composure. The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair while breathing slowly and deeply. Donna fiddled with her hat.

Even so, the Doctor recovered more quickly than Donna. "Shall we?" he asked, moving to the door.

"Hold on a sec," said Donna gaspingly. She straightened and moved to stand in front of the Doctor. She looked him over, and then lifted her hand to brush some lint off his jacket.

"No matter what happens, Doctor, remember one thing."

"What's that?"

Donna looked deep into his eyes. "She loves you."

The Doctor was suddenly no longer able to meet her gaze. Donna balled up her fist and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he said, raising one hand to nurse the injury.

Donna stuck her finger an inch from his nose. "I know what you are thinking. No, you probably don't deserve her, and yes, loving you is probably the biggest mistake she will ever make."

The Doctor's eyes grew wide, and he drew back as if Donna had slapped him.

"_But_," Donna continued, her tone a bit gentler, "she loves you despite your flaws, though I have no idea why." Her hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder. "You need to realize that love that deep is a precious gift from the universe, and if you treat it as anything but, I'm gonna smack you. Got it?"

His lips twitched slightly, and then he was smiling. His mouth curved upward in genuine delight and wonder, and no small amount of pride. "She really does, doesn't she?"

Donna snorted. "You are such a dunce." She linked her arm through his. "Come on, Space Man, let's go meet these Eternals."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The ancient breath of time echoed through the receiving chamber with a wheeze and a bit of a cough. A blue box materialized in a corner of the room with a rattle and a thump.

"Ah! Guests!" Lachesis exclaimed. She quickly untied her pink apron and pulled it carefully over her foot high hair. Stashing the apron in an unobtrusive corner, she reached up and straightened her beehive.

Satisfied with her appearance, she cast a critical eye over the receiving chamber. The marble room was extremely grandiose; intricate mosaics were laid into the floor and walls. The only furnishings were a gigantic marble table raised on a dais and surrounded by oversized throne-like chairs. It was clear that this room was used to welcome and entertain extremely important people, or at the very least, other Eternals.

The cake Lachesis had labored to bake took pride of place at one end of the long table. Meticulously decorated in blue and white, the cake was liberally sprinkled with edible ball bearings, and a strange script flowed elegantly along the top. Underneath the predominant word, carefully printed in blue icing was the English word 'Welcome'.

Next to the cake rested the usual implements for eating such a confectionary desert – plates, napkins, forks, and a monstrous steaming pot of tea with enough goblets for six. Also laying on the table was a collection of nametags, each spelling out the name of the intended in that strange flowing script.

Lachesis clapped her hands and shooed her two compatriots to the table. "Our guests have started to arrive. Put on your nametag!"

Lachesis attached a card decorated with pink poodles to the front of her blouse. Atropos and Clotho followed suit, attaching their own placards with considerably less enthusiasm.

Atropos leaned over and whispered to Clotho, "How much you want to bet she works in _the speech_."

Clotho darted a glance at Lachesis, who had moved to stand proudly in front of the door of the TARDIS. Lachesis had placed her feet into precise 'lady-like' position, and her hands were folded demurely and resting gently on her poodle skirt.

Clotho snorted in reply. "No way," she hissed. "Last time you totally got all my cake!"

* * *

Rose banged on the force field with both fists. "Oi!" she said angrily, "you didn't tell me you were locking me up! Let me out of here!"

"Rose Tyler is patient, please," said Zaizin gently.

"I'll make you a patient if you don't let me go."

Zaizin ignored her rant and touched the console. Two small prongs lifted out of the smaller roundel. He touched another spot on the console and the prongs began to glow. There was movement on the base; a small light glided back and forth like the scanner of a copy machine.

In its glow, Rose saw something suspended between the two defective forks. To her eyes, it looked like a piece of an ordinary string, and she could not fathom why the bird-men peered at it with such seriousness.

"What's so important about a bloody bit of string?" Rose asked, not really expecting an answer. She was surprised when Zaizan responded.

"It is your thread of Fate."

"My what?"

Zaizan chomped his beak as if trying to figure out how to phrase things in terms a human would understand. "It is your thread of Destiny," he said finally.

Rose scoffed. "Doubt it. I make my own choices…fate…destiny, whatever you want to call it."

Zaizan cocked his head, weighing her words. "That is possible," he concluded.

"More than possible," she retorted. The idea that her destiny was not only predetermined but was also written down on a piece of string was simply ludicrous. The Beast had been wrong; she was certain these bird people would be wrong as well.

"Look, will you let me out of here?" she asked.

"The judging is nearly complete," replied Zaizan.

Rose felt a tickle of nervousness run down her spine. Her eyes riveted on the Council of Five. "And what happens then?"

Zaizin touched another spot on the console and suddenly the string began to glow. Electric blue symbols formed on the smaller roundel and then trailed down onto the main console. An endless display of dizzying geometric shapes spread out in all directions. Tumbling from the main console, they spread across the floor to shoot up the polished walls, soon moving farther than the eye could see.

Rose watched in horror as the approaching glyphs slid up the sides of the platform upon which she stood; they coasted over the step and imprinted on the force field. Instinctively, she pulled her arms close to her body and looked around wildly.

"What is happening?" Fear made her voice tremble.

Everywhere she looked she saw movement; the symbols danced and rotated on the floor, the walls, and the force field that surrounded her. Desperately, she tried to make herself as small as possible; not knowing what would happen if one of the glyphs touched her, and not really wanting to find out.

Her breathing turned choppy and she turned round and round in the small space looking for a way out. The symbols were everywhere she looked and she could feel them crowding closer and closer, swirling above and below and around and through her.

In the space of one heartbeat, everything changed. Rose heard music, faint at first, but slowly building in volume, and with the music came light and heat and _knowledge_. Incomprehensible blue glyphs morphed into bright golden words, glorious words, words that sang in harmony with her soul.

Blind panic transformed into wondrous adoration, and Rose turned in slow circles absorbing it all. Here, she knew, was the answer; here was what she sought. She drank down the knowledge like a woman dying of thirst in the desert. It slowly poured into an empty chasm in her soul she had not even been aware existed.

As suddenly as it begun, it stopped. The light, the music, and the understanding that came with them were all snatched from her grasp. Rose was left bereft, swaying on her feet and blinking hard. She raised her hands and touched her cheeks, surprised to find them wet with tears.

Rose felt as if the entire universe was spinning, and she leaned back trying to find something solid to support her. The walls of her enclosure had evaporated and Rose tumbled backwards. She flailed wildly, desperately seeking anything that could stop her fall, but encountered nothing but empty space. Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced for a hard impact.

Her fall was halted mid-tumble, and Rose felt herself engulfed in warm softness. Opening her eyes and blinking owlishly, she saw the beaked face of Zaizan staring down at her.

"Rose Tyler is well?" he inquired softly.

Rose swallowed and nodded slowly. The small movement made her head ache and her stomach lurch dangerously. She closed her eyes and groaned before sucking in a deep breath and trying to stand unaided.

"I've got a hell of a headache," she croaked, licking her dry lips. She tried to focus on Zaizan who appeared slightly blurry. "What did you do?"

"Look," he replied, placing a supportive wing on her back when she wobbled.

Confused, Rose scanned the room. Zaizin was bent over in a very deep bow, the feathers on the top of his head brushing the floor. Behind him, arrayed in a line, was the rest of the Council of Five, all similarly bent.

"You are the one we seek," said Zaizin, his dual-toned voice bouncing on the inside of Rose's skull like a racquetball. "The Bad Wolf rises, and the Golden Mother prepares."

As one, the Zazin and his council rose and fastened their beady eyes on Rose. An expectant pause filled the room, and she slowly realized that the bird-men would continue to stare at her until she said something.

"Oh," she said flatly. Her brain was apparently not up to the task of supplying her intelligent sounding words. She tried again. "Good."

It was the last word she uttered before her eyes rolled back and she crumpled.

* * *

The Doctor and Donna exited the TARDIS arm in arm, with bright smiles of greeting on their faces.

"Hel-," began the Doctor. "Oh wow, that is some hairdo." He dropped Donna's arm and rummaged for his glasses. He squinted through the lenses at the beehive as if it were a new species he had never before encountered. "How do you make it stand up? Some sort of static electricity transducer?" he inquired.

Donna's elbow dug hard into his ribs.

"What?" he said, turning to look at Donna.

"You are being rude," she said tightly through gritted teeth.

"Am I? Oh!" The glasses were quickly replaced in his pocket. "Terribly sorry. I'm the Doctor and this is Donna Noble."

"Pleased to meet you," said Donna, giving a small curtsey.

The woman standing before them had a bright smile that had wilted slightly at the Doctor's rude behavior. She brightened it deliberately and beckoned them forward. "Welcome to the Library of Fate," she said. "I am Lachesis."

"Ah!" said the Doctor, as if everything suddenly made complete sense. "The Nurturer," he said to Donna, "She Who Measures the Threads".

A young woman with blonde braids pushed forward and grabbed hold of the lapel of the Doctor's suit jacket.

"What?" he said startled.

The young woman flashed him a smile and pinned a nametag to his jacket. She moved to Donna and attached one to her as well.

"Nametags!" said the Doctor with a smile. "Brilliant! Names are very important, after all. Without them we might all be called Fred. Thought it might be alright if we were all called Alonso." He looked down at his placard; the coloring was tan and blue and matched his suit. A quick glance at the tag the woman attached to Donna revealed colors that mimicked her feathery hat.

The writing, however, was in a language he did not know and the TARDIS was not translating. His eyes scrunched as he attempted to read the script upside-down. The symbols vaguely resembled a hybrid of ancient Earth Greek and his own language, he was surprised to note, but he was unable to interpret their meaning.

"That is Clotho," said Lachesis, gesturing to the braided girl who moved from Donna to the TARDIS. "She is the Spinner," she added taking a cue from the Doctor, "or She Who Creates the Threads".

To the Doctor's horror, he saw Clotho reach for his ship. "Oi, what do you think –".

The complaint died on his lips as he saw Clotho reach forward and reverently attach a nametag to the doorframe. Stepping back, she inclined her head in a small bow before returning to stand next to the cake-laden table.

The Doctor inspected the small placard carefully. The writing was still undecipherable, but he noticed that the last character of the TARDIS's name matched the last hieroglyphic of his own.

"You will have to excuse him," Donna said apologetically, kicking the Doctor in the ankle. "He's extremely rude. Can't take him anywhere, really."

The Doctor whirled around. "So," he said loudly, ignoring Donna's comment, "if you are the Nurturer," he indicated Lachesis with a nod of his head, "and you are the Spinner," he pointed at Clotho, "then you must be –"

"Death," replied Atropos tartly with a rap of her cane. "But you may call me Atropos."

"Well," said the Doctor, tugging at an ear, "I was going to say She Who Snips the Threads, but Death works if you prefer."

"I don't like to mince words," she said, leveling a pointed glare at the Doctor. "Those who talk incessantly usually have nothing of importance to say."

Donna snorted. "She's got you pegged."

The Doctor seemed strangely bereft of words. An awkward silence filled the room for several heartbeats, the Doctor's mouth opening and closing like the dying gasps of a fish washed up on the beach.

"This is a very nice place," piped in Donna with a tinge of desperation. They hadn't been here but five minutes and already the Doctor had managed to open his gob and shove his foot in.

The Doctor picked up the cue. "Oh yes," he added. "Very ancient Grecian. Very marble-y."

Lachesis accepted the proverbial olive branch. She grasped one of Donna's hands in both of her own.

"We are very glad you are here," she said warmly.

"Speak for yourself," muttered Atropos in a voice just loud enough to be heard.

Lachesis moved to the Doctor and firmly clasped his hand. Gazing into his eyes, she said with genuine warmth and sincerity, "We all grieve with you over the loss of Gallifrey."

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably and tried to unobtrusively pull his hand free. "Yes, well…"

"It must be very hard," she continued, oblivious to his discomfiture. "But it is nothing to be embarrassed about. It is part of the natural cycle of things."

"What?" demanded the Doctor, pulling his hand free with a jerk. His eyes blazed with anger and he scowled.

"As people grow up, the hormones start flowing. It is part of the natural development process." She gazed at him with concerned eyes.

There was a choked gasp from Donna, and the Doctor thought he heard Atropos whisper to Clotho, "I told you."

"What?" he asked again with more confusion than heat. He grimaced as his voice cracked on the word.

"It will be hard living through this without a mother to guide you, but I am more than willing to fill that role," Lachesis said. She reached forward and grabbed his arm.

Her touch gave him a jolt and he leapt back from her by at least two feet. "Madam!" he shouted, his voice full and sure, "I am over nine hundred years old! I was done with puberty at one hundred and twenty!"

"Could have fooled me," mumbled Donna with a snort of amusement. The Doctor threw her a warning glare.

Regret colored Lachesis's face, and she studied him intently. "Are you sure?" she asked, hopeful.

"Quite sure," replied the Doctor, a blush covering his cheeks.

Lachesis turned to address Atropos. "You told me that nine hundred years was crucial in the physical development of his people!"

"Did I?" asked Atropos, a malicious smile on her face. "I must have made a mistake." She shrugged. "I am old."

The Doctor transferred his glare from Donna to the old hag. He watched as Clotho leaned over and said in a voice that was not quite a whisper, "Cheater!"

Lachesis faced the Doctor once more and placed both hands on her chest, supposedly where her heart was located. "I am terribly sorry if I caused you any embarrassment. It was not my intention."

The Doctor paused, and then smiled brightly. "No worries. No harm done."

The Nurturer gave a sigh of relief. "Come. Let us have tea and cake. I baked it special in honor of your arrival."

"Finally," grumped Atropos as she pulled out a chair and plunked heavily into it. She grabbed the teapot and began pouring the steaming liquid into garishly decorated goblets.

The party quickly assembled around the table and refreshments were handed round with much pomp and circumstance. Atropos and Clotho said little, tucking into the cake with enthusiasm. The Doctor was amazingly polite, taking care to compliment the baker profusely, and if anyone noticed that a greenish-tinged Donna picked at her cake more than she ate it, no one commented.

"So," asked the Doctor as he polished off the last few crumbs on his plate, "when will the other guests arrive?" The question was asked with exaggerated casualness.

"What other guests?" asked Donna.

With a nod of his head, the Doctor indicated the far end of the table. Resting on the wooden surface were two unclaimed nametags. The keen eyes of the Doctor noted uncomfortably that the symbols covering the heavy paper were an exact match for those displayed on his own placard, except for the final glyph.

Lachesis beamed a smile. "Well-"

Her sentence was cut off as a familiar wheeze filled the chamber.

"Please tell me you didn't," said the Doctor.

Lachesis had the good grace to look embarrassed. "You see, Atropos suggested –"

Donna abruptly stood, the heavy chair screeching against the marble as it was roughly shoved backwards. She gaped at the materializing form of a second TARDIS. "Doctor, that can't be -? Can it?"

"Yes," he said with a sigh. "I'm afraid it can." The Doctor turned bleak eyes on the newly arrived TARDIS and waited to see which one of his many incarnations would emerge.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Rose awoke slowly. Aware of being surrounded by warmth and softness, and a perpetual throbbing behind her eyes, she was reluctant to pull herself from some much needed slumber. But there was a foul wind blowing gently on her face, so after a brief struggle, she opened her eyes to discover herself nose-to-beak with a moppet.

Seeing that her eyes were open, the young chick chomped its beak and scooted backwards. "Brood-father! The Golden Mother is awake!"

"Hello," said Rose, sitting up. She found herself in a large nest, woven of sturdy branches and lined with down and some more of the exquisitely woven tapestries. The nest was a riot of color and shape, but what held Rose's attention was the youngling that was excitedly ogling her.

The youngster was considerably smaller than any bird-person she had yet seen, and the feathers covering her body were sparse and dully colored. Rose guessed that the brilliant plumage must grow in when they were older.

Taking her greeting as a signal that conversation was now permitted, the stripling began talking in a rapid torrent. "My name is Acaxia," the child began in tones that were distinctly feminine. "Brood-father says you are the Golden Mother and that you have saved us all. But how can you save us when you don't have any wings? Are you so young that your wings haven't grown yet? Or did they fall off? And if they fell off, don't you miss them? And does it hurt?"

The eternal stream of questions was abruptly cut off by the ringing of Rose's cell phone. Acaxia's eyes grew wide with concern. "Brood-father! I think I broke her. She is making a horrible noise. Come quick!"

"No, no," said Rose, digging in her pocket for her phone. "It's all right. It's just my phone. A communication device," she added.

Locating the device, she punched the button and raised it to her ear. "Tyler."

"Rose! Are you all right? You were supposed to report in 4 hours ago. Jackie is frantic." The voice of Pete Tyler boomed through the receiver.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm alright. Sorry I didn't call in earlier. Things have been… strange."

"That's an understatement."

"What's happening?"

"The world is going pear-shaped, as far as I can tell. Picts are invading Scotland, Torchwood America is having the devil of a time convincing Paul Revere that we British are not actually invading, Torchwood Japan reports telepathic squid congregating off their coast, and the branches in South America say the rain forests have been taken over by sentient plants. And if that isn't enough for you, Ghengis Khan is trying to assemble another horde over in Mongolia, and I just met myself, twice."

The line went silent for a minute. "Is there any sign of the Doctor?" Pete's question was quiet, but hopeful.

"No, Dad. But the people I'm with now, I think they can help."

"You are on that sky island we are tracking?"

"Yes."

"Have you been harmed? Do you need an evac?"

Rose paused for a moment glanced at Acaxia, who lifted a wing and waved. Rose returned the greeting with a small smile. "No. They were expecting me, Dad."

"What does that mean?"

"I – I don't know, but I need to stay and find out."

Rose heard Pete sigh. "Alright, but be careful. Otherwise Jackie will have my head."

"Will do. You be safe, too. And Dad…"

"Yes, Rose?"

"If you see the Doctor…"

Rose could hear the smile in Pete's voice. "I'll sit on him myself if I have to, but I won't let him leave without you. Tyler out."

Rose closed the connection and shoved the phone back into her pocket. "That was my D-, er, Brood-Father," she said.

The young Acaxia bobbed her head up and down. "He worries."

"Yeah, he does."

"Brood-fathers always worry," Acaxia said sagely. "It is their job, but I don't like it. My brood-father pulls at his feathers when he worries, and sometimes," she leaned closer to Rose as if imparting a great secret, "when he pulls, they come out."

Rose thought of Pete's thinning head of hair and sniggered.

"Acaxia! Do you bother the Golden Mother?"

Rose looked up to see Zaizan. He leaned over and handed her a bowl. The greenish liquid inside sloshed as she instinctively took it.

"Drink," commanded Zaizan. "It eases the ache of the head."

Rose looked at him with a mixture of hope and relief. "Oh, thank you." Without hesitation she put the bowl to her lips and proceeded to drain it dry, the excess dribbling down her chin. The taste was herbal, but not unpleasant. It was only after she passed the vessel back to Zaizan that the oddity of drinking from a bowl struck her. Eyeing their pointed beaks she surmised that drinking glasses would not serve them well.

"Come," said Zaizan. He hooked his powerful hands beneath her shoulders and lifted her with ease out of the nest.

"Where are we going?" asked Rose, straightening her shirt.

"To Train," he replied.

"Er, is that anything like the Judging thing? 'Cause I didn't enjoy that very much."

Zaizan gave a throaty chuckle. "No. Different."

"Different how?" asked Rose with more than a little suspicion.

Zaizan did not reply. Instead, he grabbed her once again and directed her towards the open doorway. He did not loosen his hold and as he moved onto the perch, he unfurled his wings. Beating them against the air he achieved lift, and he took to the skies, Rose in tow.

Looking back, Rose could see that they had just left one of those dwellings she had noted before. She felt an odd sense of pride at the fact that Zaizan would not only trust her in his home, but also with his child.

The sunlight was full and radiant and Zaizan carried Rose higher into the morning sky. She enjoyed the feel of the fresh wind across her cheeks and the sight of land spread out into the horizon.

Zaizan swooped high above the building where she had been Judged the night before, its internal brilliance considerably dimmed in the light of day. As he crested the highest peak, Rose saw that there was a large circular opening in the roof. Without hesitation, Zaizan glided gently towards it.

They descended slowly through the aperture, and it took Rose a moment to realize that Zaizan was giving her time to view the array of tapestries she had noted before. When she first saw them, she had thought they were arranged to tell a story; now that Zaizan was providing her with the guided tour, she was certain.

As she eagerly scanned the weavings, trying to decipher symbols, pictures, and meanings, she heard Zaizan's voice drift from above her.

"When the worlds were new and we Farinzians were but fledglings, our plumage downy and dull, the Goddesses of Destiny, the Three-In-One, the Keepers of the Weave, visited us with a sacred charge."

Rose stared at the story panels before her, and listened intently as Zaizan unfolded his tale. His recital moved languidly, with the comfortable ease of one who has repeated the story many times.

"'The People of Light have wrought order from the chaos of the universe,' they said. 'We have taken the essence of everything and woven it into a Tapestry, and this Tapestry will structure and guide all that was, all that is, and all that will be.'"

"'But we foresee a Great Sorrow, a time when conflict will rip the Tapestry asunder, and the existence of all that is, was, and will be, will be torn from our grasp.'"

"We were distressed at this news and took to plucking out our feathers in grief. 'Is there nothing to be done?' we cried in despair. 'Is all to begin only to end?'"

"'Fear not children,' replied the Keepers of the Weave. 'Life follows death, and birth follows destruction. Time will give birth to a Champion, and she will give birth to the universe anew.'"

"Our hearts no longer quailed in fear upon hearing those sacred words. We implored with the Three-In-One, saying, 'What must we do? How can we be your eternal servants?'"

"The Goddesses bestowed upon us a smile and then said, 'We require of you three tasks. First, you must travel the threads of the Tapestry, for it is your duty to find Time's Champion. Second, you must learn to Weave, for it is you who will instruct the Champion. Lastly, when all is prepared you will bring the Champion to the Beginning that is also an End. Can you fulfill these tasks?'"

"'We will do whatever is required of us,' we replied sincerely. 'But, how will we know Time's Champion?'"

"'Time's Champion will appear in the guise of a Bad Wolf.'.'"

Rose couldn't help a reflexive twitch at the mention of the Bad Wolf, but if Zaizan noticed, he gave no sign. The large bird-man gently descended the remaining few feet until Rose's feet lightly touched the ground. Releasing her shoulders, he landed beside her and cocked his head inquiringly.

Zaizan was respectfully silent as Rose shuffled slightly. Nervousness, uncertainty, and the weight of expectation gnawed painfully at her guts, and she wrestled with her fear for several long minutes. Finally, she straightened her shoulders and looked Zaizan in the eyes.

"I don't know about this 'birthing a universe' thing," she began. "It sounds horribly painful, if you ask me, and I really don't think I'm a champion of anything, must less Time." She ran a hand through her hair, struggling with the words she wished to say. Sucking in a deep breath, she said, "I'm just Rose Tyler, human of Earth and nothing special. But if the universe is in trouble, I will do everything I can to help."

Zaizan reverently bowed his head. "Then that, Golden Mother," he said, "is more than sufficient."

* * *

"Hello," said the big-eared face that poked out of the doorway of the second TARDIS. "Sorry I'm late," he added, stepping fully out of the time ship. "Had a bit of trouble with integrating the biochip with the -. Oh."

The word was flat and clearly unenthused. The Doctor felt the eyes of his younger self raking over his person, clearly taking stock.

The leather-clad Doctor crossed his arms over his chest and leaned casually against the blue wood. "Which one are you, then?"

The Doctor shoved his hands deep into his pockets and rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. He gave a cheeky smile. "The one after you. And as you can see, we've clearly made some improvements. Like, you know, really great hair."

The closely shorn Doctor snorted. "All I see is a skinny streak of piss with poor fashion sense."

"Oi!"

"Excuse me," said Donna, inserting herself between the two Doctors, "but will someone please tell me what is going on here?" Turning to the suited Doctor she continued, "How can there be two time ships? And who is the bloke in the leather jacket?"

"Terribly sorry. Donna Noble, meet, well, myself."

Donna looked from one to the other. "Eh?"

The Doctor moved closer to Donna. "Remember when I told you Time Lords had a way of cheating death? Well, our method is to change into someone new, like the fellow standing there with the bad haircut."

Donna's eyes darted from one Doctor to the next, a gormless expression on her face. It took a minute, but when it sank in, her eyes grew wide.

"So you," she pointed to the Doctor she knew, "were once him?" She pointed at the unfamiliar Doctor.

"Yep."

Donna promptly dissolved into raucous laughter.

"Oi!" said both Doctors simultaneously.

"If you think that is bad," said Clotho, sidling up and affixing nametags to the newly arrived TARDIS and Doctor, "I can, like totally, tell you about worse."

Both Doctors looked horrified.

"Don't you dare," said the suited Doctor.

Donna merely fixed him with a look before turning to Clotho. "Please."

Clotho leaned over and whispered in Donna's ear.

"No way! He wore that? In public?" The two dissolved further into laughter before moving off.

"Fantastic companion you've picked up," said the leather-clad Doctor with a sneer.

"Donna?" said the Doctor, running a hand through his hair. "She is a handful," he admitted, turning to face his counterpart, "and will no doubt tease me about this till I regenerate, but she is completely worth it. After all, we only take the best."

"Yes, I suppose we do."

"So," asked the Doctor peering behind the newly arrived Doctor, "Where is Rose?" He was unable to keep the hopefulness out of his tone.

"With Jackie. Said she intended to spend the day doing girl stuff." The look the leather-clad Doctor gave his counterpart was searching. He pushed off the TARDIS and stood to face the other Doctor fully. "Where is your Rose?"

The Doctor's eyes widened with surprise, and he stuttered his reply. "Well, she…that is to say…well, I mean to say…she is safe." He drew in a deep breath. "She is unalterably, without a doubt, one hundred percent, completely and wholly safe."

"Glad to hear it. Now answer the question."

"She's with her family," the older Doctor offered, trying not to flinch under the piercing blue gaze.

"Left you, did she? Decided she preferred substance over pretty?"

Anger roiled in his gut at the implied insult. "No!" he shouted. "She didn't leave me. She fell through a rip…" Too late he realized his error.

"You lost her?" came the snarling response. "Fantastic. Not only do I morph into a pretty boy, but I turn into a completely useless pretty boy."

"I am not useless. Rose is safe!"

The leather-clad Doctor leaned in menacingly until he stood nearly nose-to-nose with his counterpart. "You had better hope so."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Before the argument could degrade any further, Atropos took the matter into her own hands.

_Whack! Whack!_

"Ow!"

"What'd you do that for, you old hag?"

Both Doctors leaned down to rub their injured ankles.

"As much fun as it would be to watch the two of you tear one another apart," said Atropos, brandishing her cane, "can we get on with saving the Tapestry?"

The two Doctors shared a glance; as one, they rose and faced Atropos with beaming smiles.

"Brilliant!"

"Fantastic!"

Atropos rolled her eyes, then turned and led the two pains in her ass towards the Tapestry viewing chamber. The only sounds that bounced off the marble were the rhythmic tapping of her cane, the muffled thump of hard-soled Dock Martins, and the tiny squeak of sneakers.

The silence, however, was short-lived.

"Trainers with a suit? Seriously? We had better fashion sense when we were into decorative vegetables."

"Oi! At least I'm not all dark and menacing!"

Atropos stopped listening to the argument, choosing instead to repeatedly recite a mantra under her breath. "I will not kill the Time Idiots."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Zaizan wrapped one wing around Rose's shoulders and led her out of the tapestry chamber and down the hallway she remembered from the previous night. The sunshine temporarily blinded her as they emerged from the temple, and she blinked furiously.

Releasing her from his grasp, Zaizan turned left and the two strolled gently through the vibrantly red grass. As they walked, Rose's head turned this way and that, excited to see more of this wondrous city in the light of day.

They approached what Rose could only conclude was the market; a vast array of strange objects winked out at her from display shelves, lovingly attended to by bird-people of all sizes and colors. Once they crossed from curios and oddities, they moved into the food market, and her first impression was that of slime and hundreds of little legs and antennae all waving desperately in the air. Basket upon basket contained a wide assortment of bugs, long and flat, short and round, with and without wings.

Rose gulped and averted her eyes. It had been many hours since her mostly liquid dinner, but none of the delicacies in the market inspired her appetite.

Zaizan walked beside Rose, leading her through the market. They must have been out very early for their way was unimpeded by the press of a great many feathered bodies. Declining to examine the contents of the baskets further, Rose affixed her eyes on the ground.

She was surprised when he came to a stop in front of one of the stalls. She was alarmed when she heard him negotiating a price with a vendor. She was mortified when Zaizan bowed to the vendor having reached an amiable agreement. She was utterly horrified when Zaizan turned towards her, a small parcel in clutched in his hands.

"Oh, Zaizan," she stuttered, desperately trying to find a tactful way out of the impending culinary disaster. "You needn't have bothered…"

"The Golden Mother must eat," replied Zaizan, thrusting the package into her hands.

It squished slightly when she reluctantly grabbed it. Rose looked from her hands to Zaizan and saw his head cocked in expectation.

She carefully schooled her features into gratefulness and beamed him a tenuous smile. "Thank you," she said politely.

Seeing that Zaizan fully intended to stand there until she had eaten, she returned her gaze the paper-covered food. Cautiously, she peeled back a corner of the brown wrapping to reveal what looked an awful lot like a yeast roll. Her brow furrowed slightly as she gave it a light squeeze. The dough compressed like a yeast roll should.

Emboldened, Rose tore off a piece of the bun and tried to surreptitiously determine if there were bugs baked into the center of the bread. No dark, suspicious, and gooey center greeted her.

Feeling the weight of Zaizan's beady gaze, Rose grasped hold of her courage and popped a piece into her mouth. The texture was slightly different from any bread she had ever eaten before, but the taste was sweet and not unpleasant.

Chewing more readily, she smiled at Zaizan. "It's good," she said between mouthfuls. "But Zaizan will you do me a favor?"

"Of course, Golden Mother."

"Don't tell me what it's made of. OK?"

Zaizan threw back his head and crowed with laughter. "That is acceptable, Golden Mother."

Rose smiled and popped another piece of the mysterious bread into her mouth. "So how far to this training thing?" she asked as they resumed walking.

In reply, Zaizan extended a wing and pointed straight ahead. The building where she had been judged was a crystalline spire rising high into the sky; in contrast, this structure was relatively plain and squat. It was still large, but round instead of tall, and covered with a domed roof. The walls were made of the same crystalline material she had seen in abundance on this sky island, but whereas the Temple of the Fates was opaque, this building was completely translucent.

Rose squinted at the structure as she chewed. She could barely make out the door, but within its clear walls there was a lot of fast movement. And, what looked like a multi-colored spider web constructed of string.

Zaizan ushered Rose the short remaining distance and through the doorway. After passing through a small foyer, the building opened into one giant room, and Rose's mouth dropped open in awe. The Farinzians appeared to be engaging in an acrobatic dance; they swooped and ducked, twirled and dipped, and it took a few moments for Rose to realize what they what they were doing.

The clear walls of the building were covered in tiny crystalline hooks. As a Farinzian made a pass laying a line in the pattern, he would tie his thread to a hook before zooming off in another direction, his piece of the weave trailing behind. Rose didn't know the first thing about weaving, but it looked like the bird-people were building some sort of framework.

While some people worked on the framework, several others hovered at the center of the room, wings rapidly beating. Rose watched in awe as they passed a shuttlecock between the threads at a dizzying speed, building the tapestry from the center out.

"This is the Weave," said Zaizan.

"Yeah," replied Rose breathlessly.

It was a beautiful exhibition and Rose was enthralled. It was clear that the reason the tapestries she had seen thus far appeared to be three dimensional was because they were actually _woven_ in three dimensions.

"HOLD," crowed Zaizan.

The loud and unexpected command startled Rose and she jerked with surprise. A fluttering of wings filled the space, and when it cleared the Farinzians had ascended to a balcony that circled the ceiling.

"Rose Tyler," said Zaizan, "what is in the center of the weave?"

Rose blinked. His query had the tone of a test question and she felt a flash of anxiety. "What?"

"Look to the center of the weave," Zaizan said patiently. To emphasize the point, he gestured towards the middle of the room.

Following his arm, Rose craned her head. The point at which Zaizan gestured appeared to Rose's untrained eye to be equidistant from all points in the room. As she stood on her tiptoes trying to gain a better vantage, the sunlight reflected off something metallic.

"I can't see," she said as she hopped to try and gain a better view.

Wordlessly, Zaizain hooked her under the arms and lifted her towards the object in question, his broad wings keeping them steady. There, in the exact center of the tapestry was a small silver ball. Looking closer, Rose could see that the surface of the ball was covered in tiny hooks, similar to those that covered the walls of the weaving chamber.

Attached to the ball were the anchoring threads of the tapestry. Curious, she traced one of the strings with her eyes, following it outwards until it terminated in a knot on a corresponding hook on the wall.

"Do you see?" asked Zaizan.

"Yes," Rose said doubtfully, "but what is it?"

"It is the Polestar, the nexus that supports the whole."

Rose shook her head slightly. "I don't understand."

"Watch," he said, and then let loose with a distinctive cry Rose had not heard him utter before.

Before the echoes of his call had died, his people began to raise their voices, crooning a song that Rose was certain she had heard somewhere before. The lilting notes rang through the chamber, a melody so sad that Rose wanted to weep.

"It is the Song of Unmaking," whispered Zaizan above her. "Watch the Polestar."

Rose nodded her understanding, unable to speak, and turned her attention to the Polestar. As she watched, the small ball began to glow; the tiny hooks unfurled and the spokes retracted, disappearing into the silvery metal.

The song ended, and with its final note the ethereal glow surrounding the Polestar faded. It dropped heavily between the threads of the tapestry and collided with the floor with a metallic clang.

Zaizan descended slowly, finally placing Rose on her feet. She hurriedly wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "That's so sad," she said softly.

The birdman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and then turned her so she faced the tapestry once again. "Tell me, Golden Mother, what do you see?"

Rose drew in a deep settling breath and focused on the tapestry. Surprisingly, the entire weave had not immediately unraveled. Instead, the middle sagged pitifully. The secondary lines in the pattern provided some support to the entire weave ensuring the entire tapestry did not collapse, but the anchor threads dangled loosely.

"It didn't collapse," said Rose softly.

"No," said Zaizan. "The Polestar supports the Weave, but is not the totality of the Weave." When Rose nodded to signify she understood, he continued. "Now, watch what happens."

Zaizan gave a signal with his feathered arm, and all his people descended from the rafters to resume their work. Once again, the shuttlecock flashed rapidly between taloned hands, but the placement of new anchor threads was a futile task. Each new line laid simply fell limp, and as the pattern weavers worked, the dangling threads were snagged into the weave. It didn't take long before Rose could visibly see the effect.

"It's knotting up," she said. The snarls were becoming evident all over the tapestry.

Zaizan nodded. "And where is the largest knot?"

Rose gave a careful search before replying. "In the middle."

Zaizan nodded again, and gave another signal to those working. Once again, work ceased and the weavers retreated. "The Weave requires balance. If there is none, it works to create balance, but the cost is high. What do you notice?"

Sensing another test question, Rose moved towards the nearest snarl. It was a small one and placed low enough that she could examine it closely. The pattern looked to Rose much like one of the majestic trees that dotted the landscape of this floating island. And there, near the base of the tree, the threads were hopelessly crossed, and she could see immediately that there was no way to untangle it without a pair of sharp shears.

Rose ran her fingers over the distortion. The threads felt tight under her fingers, as if they were being put under incredible strain. In a couple of places, she could feel the fabric buckle, leaving uneven crests and valleys that marred the face of the tree.

"The threads are tight," she offered, looking over her shoulder at Zaizan. "And there are bumps and grooves that shouldn't be there."

Zaizan silently regarded her with patient eyes.

"Wait," she said with the air of someone who had just had an important realization. "Are you saying that what happened to this tapestry is the same thing happening to my world?"

"Not your world," Zaizan replied. "All that is, all that was, all that ever will be."

"And what happens if this isn't fixed? If balance is not restored?"

Another signal from Zaizan, and the Weavers returned to their work. Rose watched with growing dread. Whatever happened to the tapestry would happen to the universe if nothing was done, so she observed the process with intense scrutiny. As such, she was the first to notice the tear.

If she had been focused solely on the center of the pattern, on the large knot that was continuing to grow, she would have missed it. The strain on the threads of supporting the weight of the entire tapestry proved too much. A rip started on the periphery of the pattern, far removed from the center that was supposed to support it. Rose watched in horrified silence as the surrounding threads parted, and the ragged gap expanded slowly and inexorably toward the middle.

"What happens when it reaches the center?" she asked softly.

Zaizan looked down at her with kindly and sympathetic eyes. "The tapestry collapses."

Rose sucked in a desperate lungful of air. On the exhale she blurted, "We have to do something! Where is the Polestar? What happened to it?"

"I will show you," replied Zaizan.

He led them from the weaving chamber and out into the sunshine. Rose just had time to breathe deeply of the fresh air before Zaizan had her airborne. They sped past the markets and Rose saw the Temple of the Fates looming before her.

Zaizan banked slightly and they rushed into the building on a great gust of air. Instead of letting Rose walk the now familiar hallway, he flew straight and true through it, finally settling her feet on the floor of the Judging chamber.

Landing lightly next to her, he called to Zaizin who stood with the Council of Five by the roundel Rose remembered from yesterday. "Show her."

Zaizin eyed Rose doubtfully. "Are you sure, Brood-Brother?"

Zaizan nodded. "The Golden Mother must see to understand."

"As you wish." Zaizin bowed low and turned to the controls. He pressed an area on the console and two prongs, larger than the ones she remembered, rose from the central roundel. A complex series of lights flickered on the smooth surface and then a string appeared between the prongs.

Rose couldn't help but compare the thread she now saw with her own line. Whereas her string had looked more like a thin piece of twine, the thread that was now being read looked more like a cable. It was thick and tightly compressed and seemed to sparkle as the light of the reader scanned it.

Suddenly images appeared on the smooth walls of the chamber, one after another until filled to capacity. Rose turned in a slow circle, perusing each picture in turn, and unbidden silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

She was looking at what used to be a world teeming with life. Its red ground was smoking with the charred remains of ships and bodies; great chunks of earth had been gouged out of the planet and now floated aimlessly in space. A majestic citadel rose into the sky, the dome that surrounded it cracked and jagged. Fire blazed everywhere, great tongues of flame consuming everything in its path including forests of silvery trees.

"This is the Polestar," said Zaizan softly. "It was a beautiful planet that spawned a mighty people. They traveled through space and time and kept the Tapestry whole until pride and arrogance and war destroyed them."

Rose cried out and turned to Zaizan with haunted eyes. "This was his planet, the Doctor's." She wasn't sure how she knew this, but something deep inside of her told her this was true.

"This is Gallifrey, home planet of the Time Lords."

"How do we fix this?" Grief made her voice thick and hoarse. "How do we bring it back?"

Zaizan cocked his head at her curiously. "Do you still not understand, Rose Tyler? Gallifrey is destroyed; it no longer guides the Tapestry." He drew close to the weeping Rose and pulled her into his embrace. "You, Golden Mother, are the new Polestar."

* * *

"Beautiful," the Doctor breathed as he peered closely at the projection of the Tapestry. With the ease of practice, an absent hand rummaged in his jacket pocket and deftly slid glasses onto his nose. "Absolutely incredible! The Tapestry is everything the textbooks claimed and then some!"

"What is it?" asked Donna.

The Doctor whirled to face her, his expression filled with wonderment and awe. "This is the Universe," he said, gesturing expansively.

Donna did not look impressed. "Are you telling me the universe is made of string?" She huffed with disbelief. "Pull the other one."

The other Doctor snorted from his place by the massive control console, clearly as unmoved by the sight as Donna.

"Oh, it isn't string," said Clotho. "It is made from the essence of Time and Space. And I should know," she added with a smile, "I create the threads myself."

"Time and space?" asked Donna, her brow furrowed with confusion.

"Of course," said Clotho. "They are the building blocks of life and matter – all that was, all that is, and all that ever will be. The Doctor should know," she added. "The heart of the TARDIS is comprised of the same stuff, after all."

Donna remembered Clotho's behavior towards the TARDIS, how she treated the time machine as if it were another person in the room and deserving perhaps more respect than the Time Lord that piloted it. "Oh, so that's why…"

"Sorry to disrupt this delightful chinwag," said the leather-clad Doctor sourly, "but might I assume that the reason you brought us here is the bloody ginormous knot in the center of this tapestry?"

"Give the Time Fool a medal," snapped Atropos.

"Can't you just cut it out?" asked Donna. "Then you can sew over the hole." The solution seemed simple to her.

"We could," said Atropos slowly, "and that is still an option if we are left with no other choice, but the price would be high."

"Donna," explained the Doctor, eyeing her with kindness through his lenses. "Each one of those threads is a life, of a person, a planet, a universe."

The color drained from Donna's face. "People?" She looked at the spider-web of glowing threads with newfound respect and no little sense of horror. "What people?"

"All people," said Lachesis, laying a comforting hand on Donna's shoulder.

Donna shook Lachesis off. "You're telling me that my life is nothing more than a piece of string displayed in some backwoods space station?"

The Doctor was in front of her now, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Donna, listen to me. It's OK."

"OK? OK? How can it possibly be OK? These women, and I use that term loosely, have control over every life in the freaking universe. All it would take is for one of them to get bored and the next thing you know they've turned everyone into papier-mâché." Her pupils were dilated and she was nearly hyperventilating.

Traveling with the Doctor had taught her that space and time were malleable, that events could be manipulated by the subtle touch of one gentle hand. To discover that life itself was just as pliable was nearly too much.

"Do you trust them?" she demanded. "With my life? With yours? With Rose's?"

"Silly girl," reprimanded Atropos.

"Look here you old hag –"

"Donna," said Lachesis as she gently pried her from the Doctor's grasp. "Look at the Tapestry."

Her voice was soft and soothing, and though reluctant, Donna found herself walking with the woman until she stood in front of the tangle of threads. As she stared at the network of lines and patterns that glittered in the chamber, she could not suppress a shiver.

"Do you see how the threads cross and intersect? Some even manage to merge." Lachesis waited until Donna nodded before continuing. "Those are all choices made by individuals like you, and each choice changes the Tapestry all on its own."

"Choices?" echoed Donna.

"You've got it all wrong, dear. Our job is to preserve the whole of the Tapestry so that all life may continue. The actual pattern is woven by the individual choices made by people exercising their will. We only step in when the choices made by individuals or groups threaten the entire Weave."

Donna stared hard at the spider-web of lives. "The stories say that you lot determine when life is created, how long that life will be, and when it ends."

"No, at least, not entirely," Lachesis said. "But you have to remember, Donna, that death is a necessary part of life. It is what allows the cycle to continue. And if we don't preserve it, everything and everyone would end."

Donna was quiet as she stared at the glittering tableau. She would freely admit that she didn't understand, but even in the midst of uncertainty she knew what needed to be done. Somehow, the knot that threatened all of existence needed to be undone in such a way as to not kill anybody.

Her brow furrowed with memory. "When my Grandmother got a tangle in her knitting she would undo each stitch until she could go back to a point before the knot was made." She could feel the Doctor, the geeky one, grinning at her with pride.

"An interesting idea, but impossible," said Atropos.

"Donna, it is difficult to unravel time," said the Doctor. "Each point consists of millions of separate events. Even if we narrowed the field down to just key events, it would take more than two Doctors and two TARDISes to visit each event and undo it. The effort it would take to calculate the exact way and order events must be undone would need all the resources of Gallifrey." His eyes darkened at the mention of his home planet.

"They can't just shift their loom or some such?"

"Not as easy as that," said the unfamiliar Doctor. In the contemplative silence that followed his statement, she heard him muttering under his breath something that sounded a lot like math calculations, or an unusual form of cursing. He was tinkering with the main computer, and if Donna was not mistaken, she heard the familiar buzz of a sonic screwdriver.

"Whose thread is this?" the suited Doctor asked from beside her. Donna watched as he extended a finger and gently rubbed the single gold thread.

"We don't know," replied Atropos, her arms crossed over her chest. "We've been trying to identify it since this mess began, but haven't had much luck."

"How is that possible? You catalog everyone and everything, don't you?"

"Don't you mouth off at me, boy," she snapped. "Something is changing the composition of that thread. It is difficult for us to read."

"Changed it? What does that mean?"

"It means," said Atropos slowly and clearly, "that line belongs to an unidentified species."

The Doctor's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "That's impossible."

"Well," offered Clotho, "it isn't completely unknown." She squirmed slightly when all eyes turned to her. "It is reverting to its natural form."

"What?" demanded the Doctor.

Atropos rolled her eyes. "Speak slowly for the Time Morons, Clotho."

Clotho tried again. "I'm saying that the thread in question is changing into raw space and time." When she still received blank looks, she added, "The same stuff I weave the threads from in the first place."

Her explanation was interrupted by a loud beep from the computer console. When the Doctor looked up from the screen, his face was pale and haggard, but the set of his jaw bespoke of a smoldering rage. His eyes immediately sought out his future self. "It's Rose," he said. "What the hell did you do?"

"No," breathed the Doctor. The freckles that dotted his skin suddenly appeared in stark contrast to his rapidly paling skin. "No, no, no!"

Atropos rushed with surprising speed to the oversized computer terminal, the older Doctor on her heels. When she saw the symbols flashing rapidly across the screen, she screeched. "What have you done?" she demanded, punctuating the question with her cane.

Blue eyes crinkled in annoyance. "I translated your arcane language into something infinitely more useable."

For the first time since Donna had met the rude crone, Atropos was at a loss. She gaped at the Doctor. "How? That system is designed to function off our genetics."

"Genius, me," he said. His tone effectively dismissed her concerns as unimportant. He brushed past the old woman to stand nose-to-nose with his counterpart. "What did you do to Rose?"

"What?" The Doctor's brown hair stuck up in all directions and his face was set into bewilderment. "I didn't do anything." He roughly pushed past his younger self, determined to see the data for himself. He stood rigid, hands balled into fists at his side as he watched the data scroll across the screen.

Donna knew when he reached the unwanted but inescapable conclusion. His body sagged as if the weight of the universe had finally smothered his last spark of life. She was running towards him before she even registered the movement. Reaching him, she slipped her arm through his and squeezed. "Tell him," she urged. "We knew she was involved, and he deserves to know."

"Yeah," said the Doctor, crossing his arms across his chest. "Tell me."

Donna felt Atropos brush against her as the old hag maneuvered closer to the control console. Once in reach, Donna heard the clatter of keys.

"I can't tell you," said her traveling companion. "You know it is too dangerous to know what will happen in our own timeline."

The leather-clad Doctor rolled his eyes. "We are currently standing outside of space and time, stupid. Otherwise it wouldn't be safe for us to be together for too long."

"Ah," replied the Doctor, disengaging himself from Donna and jamming his hands into his pockets. "You do have a point."

Atropos brushed past Donna again, moving around the quarreling Doctors, headed for the Tapestry. Curious, Donna followed.

"Which is more than you've got, mate. Now, tell me."

"Frankly," said Atropos, pulling the shears from her belt, "I don't give a damn what the story is. While you two morons were arguing, I found a way to end this. It was easy once I knew who we were dealing with. Deal with the life at the center of the knot, and we save the Tapestry."

At the console, Atropos had forced the tapestry display to follow the golden thread backwards, finding the exact point where it changed from being a normal life to an extraordinary one. She opened the shears and positioned them to sever the thread right before radiant pink turned to glistening gold. "Sacrifice one life for the many," she said.

"No!" shouted both Doctors. The tall Doctor rounded the console at a full run, aiming for Atropos. The other Doctor lurched for the control console, sonic screwdriver at the ready.

"You can't!" screamed Donna, trying to reach Atropos. Lachesis and Clotho both impeded her progress.

"It is the only way," said Atropos, and snapped the shears closed.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Rose Tyler was absolute shite at arts and crafts. Like any growing child under the care of the public education system, she was exposed to all kinds of crafting activities, but had shown no aptitude for any of them. Her drawings more closely resembled chaotic blobs of color as opposed to pastoral scenes; her sole attempt at pottery had yielded nothing more artsy than an obscenely shaped pencil holder; and her only experience with weaving had resulted in a place mat that her Mum promptly buried in the bottom of the dishrag drawer.

So it was with no little apprehension that she trailed behind Zaizan as he led her to weaving class. The instruction was held outdoors, and Rose could see a small flock of fledglings seated on the grass. They sat in a semi-circle around a tall female Farinzian adorned with rust colored plumage.

Rose nervously hung near the periphery of the circle, uncertain of her welcome. As she stood there shifting from foot-to-foot, a loud voice greeted her.

"Golden Mother," cried Acaxia from her place in the circle waving her wings frantically. "Golden Mother! Come sit by me!" To make sure Rose got the message, Acaxia scooted over ensuring the Golden Mother had ample room.

The effusiveness of the greeting brought a smile to Rose's mouth. She quickly ducked her head at the teacher, walked around the circle, and plopped down next to Acaxia, who chirped happily.

"Call me Rose," she said with a smile. "It's less of a mouthful than Golden Mother."

Beaks are not suited to expressions such as smiles, but Rose had no doubt that Acaxia was smiling. "I will, Rose. I'm so glad you are here. I could tell you were nervous, probably because you don't have wings and all of us do. But don't worry, I'll sit right here next to you and help. Weaving is fun!"

The teacher warbled loudly and Acaxia automatically clapped her beak closed. Rose suspected that the teacher had to reprimand the verbose moppet often.

"Class," the teacher began, "we are the Chosen, charged with the task of teaching the Golden Mother the art of Weaving."

"I am Leiarga," she said before bending over in a grandiose bow. There was a lot of rustling as all the children rose to their feet and clumsily imitated the gesture.

"It is our now and future honor to serve you, Golden Mother," recited the teacher. Smaller voices followed the recitation, and Rose realized it was the same phrasing Zaizan had used when they had first met. Obviously it held some ritual significance, but Rose was at a loss on how to respond.

When no one moved, Rose climbed to her feet and bent at the waist. "Thank you," she replied.

Her response seemed to be enough, and after a few moments of shifting, fluttery movement, the class resumed its seat upon the soft red grass. The instructor made her way around the semi-circle, depositing needed materials in front of each student.

Rose stared at the items. There was a large pile of brilliantly hued yarn and an exact replica of the weaving chamber she had seen, only in miniature. The domed roof had been sliced off, she noted, and the hooks lining the inside of the small room were larger than the ones than in the original, no doubt an accommodation to smaller, less coordinated hands.

The last piece she was given was a small silver ball. Rose rolled it around in her hand; the surface was smooth and cool, but it felt more like water than metal and seemed to ebb and flow across her palm.

Leiarga resumed her place at the front. "Now, what is the first step of Weaving?"

Acaxia waved her wing in the air. "I know! I know!" When the teacher nodded at her, Acaxia answered in a pleased tone, "Pay respect to the Polestar."

"Very good, Acaxia. And how do we do that?"

"We sing the Song of Creation."

"Correct. Is everyone ready to sing?"

There were nods and excited chirps from the students, but Rose felt her stomach clench. "I don't know the song," she whispered to Acaxia.

The depth in Acaxia's eyes reminded Rose of Zaizan. "Yes you do, Rose. You just don't remember. But that's OK. We'll help you remember. It's our duty."

Rose would have protested, but Acaxia started singing, her voice rising to join that of her classmates. The notes were scratchy and hesitant, a song sung by amateurs instead of the professionals she heard in the Weaving Chamber, but the melody came through strongly. Rose looked wildly at the teacher and her fellow students hoping someone would provide her with guidance.

When all Rose received was an encouraging nod from the teacher, she sighed. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on hearing the notes and rhythm. Unlike the song she had heard earlier, this tune was full of joy and sunlight, and she unconsciously started to sway to the music. After a minute or two, Rose realized that she _had_ heard this song before, though she could not place where or when the tune might have become familiar.

Though she was not particularly musically talented, it wasn't long before she found herself humming along. After a few tentative starts and stops, Rose started to sing. It felt as if the music was a living thing that moved through her, as if the song itself were guiding her to the next joyous note. The melody filled her with happiness and anticipation, like she was poised on the cusp of seeing the birth of something wondrous.

"Rose," said an awe-struck Acaxia, "you're glowing."

The song died in her throat as Rose's eyes popped open. "What?"

"Look."

A quick survey of her person revealed that Acaxia was right. Everywhere Rose looked, an ethereal glow covered her skin. The polestar hovered about a foot above her palm, hooks extended, shining with the same golden light.

Instead of being alarmed, Rose felt content and accomplished. Whatever this energy was, she could feel it flow just beneath her skin, and the sensation was familiar and somewhat comforting. She flashed a big grin at Acaxia. "I did it."

"See? I told you, you'd remember."

"Yeah," said Rose. "Remember." Rose's brow furrowed. There was something else she needed to remember, and it was hanging just out of reach.

"Don't worry," said Acaxia sagely. "It will be there when you need it."

Rose turned surprised eyes to Acaxia. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Acaxia's chest puffed out with importance. "Brood-father says it is so, and he is always right."

Rose hid a grin. "Yes, Zaizan is very smart."

"The smartest," Acaxia added. "You aren't glowing as much anymore."

The golden light was indeed fading from her skin, Rose noted, but the feeling of warm energy coursing through her veins did not cease. She tried to work up some concern, but her heart felt too light and happy. And the energy, well, it felt like hot chocolate on the coldest winter's day, or seeing her Mum holding her new baby brother, or how she thought she would feel upon seeing the Doctor once more.

It felt like home.

Rose looked at her Polestar which still burned like a tiny star and smiled broadly. Leaning towards Acaxia, she asked, "Think the teacher will let us sing it again?"

* * *

The room exploded with the screech of metal against metal followed by a booming crack. The tapestry flashed a blinding gold which quickly receded. Where once there had been a pink thread that turned into gold, there was now only gold spreading in either direction as far as the eye could see.

"Shit," said Atropos. Her shears were still intact, but a large nick in the blades was clearly visible. "This should not be possible. Nothing can withstand my shears."

"The transformation is nearly complete," breathed Clotho.

Atropos rounded on the rapidly approaching Doctor, brandishing the sharp scissors. "Who is this Rose Tyler?" she demanded.

Donna saw her traveling companion open his mouth to reply, but before he could respond the other Doctor ran towards him, grabbed his lapels, and dragged him in close. Even from where she stood, she could see the fury in his blue eyes. She shook herself free of Lachesis and Clotho and dashed to the Doctor's side.

"What happened to Rose?" demanded the younger Doctor.

"Let go of me." The suited Doctor twisted to get free. "Pacifist, remember?"

"Violence against myself doesn't count." Despite his words, the leather-clad Doctor set him loose with a shove. "Tell me."

The Doctor straightened his jacket before replying. When he did respond, it was with extreme reluctance. "She looked into the heart of the TARDIS."

"What? How could you be so stupid? Didn't you realize what would happen? She'd burn!"

The Doctor ran his hands through his unruly hair. "It wasn't me!" he yelled. "It wasn't me!"

The blue-eyed Doctor stared at him, horrified. The blood drained out of his face and he looked like a man who had just been dealt a terribly powerful sucker punch. "I did this?" he whispered.

"You did nothing except what you should have. You tried to protect her. We've both tried to protect her, but Rose…"

"…is headstrong." He let loose a dry laugh that contained no humor. "And extremely jeopardy friendly."

"She is, indeed." The suited Doctor looked at his younger self with an expression filled with understanding, and perhaps some compassion. "We hold all of our companions in our hearts," he said.

"But Rose is special," finished the leather-clad Doctor.

A moment of shared appreciation passed between the Doctors, a silent acknowledgement of a similar sentiment and purpose. The moment was rudely interrupted by an old and crabby voice.

"Before the two of you sit down to sing Kumbaya, would one of you like to enlighten the rest of us?"

Donna whirled around and glared at the crone. "Can't leave them alone for a minute, can you, ya harpy?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, girl, we've got a major problem."

"And if you gave him half a minute, he'd tell you that Rose has been communicating with us from the other universe."

Atropos sneered back at Donna. "Really? And what does she say?"

Donna raised her chin defiantly. "She says that the Bad Wolf is coming soon."

Donna had seen the reaction those two words had on the Doctor; she was pleasantly surprised to find that the three Fates reacted even more violently. As one, the three moved speedily to the console and rapidly pressed keys. The holographic display zoomed from one section of the tapestry to the other in rapid succession, finally scrolling so fast that the pattern blurred.

"This can't be right," muttered Atropos under her breath.

"Of course it can," replied Lachesis in an even tone. "This is what we planned for."

"Yes, but a Time Lord companion? Chronos will never let us live this down."

"Why not a Time Lord companion?" piped the suited Doctor, leaning over the crone's shoulder to peer through his glasses at the computer. "Hmmm?"

"After all," the one in leather said as he similarly crowded Lachesis, "we take only the best."

The two Doctors shared a smug grin.

"Who's Chronos?" asked Donna, elbowing Clotho and staring at the incomprehensible foreign symbols.

"Well," said Clotho, "there it is."

"Where's what?" demanded Donna. "There's nothing there." She pointed at the Tapestry display. Where once there had been tendrils of life spreading out as far as the eye could see, in the section that was now displayed, there was empty space. "I think there's something wrong with your doohickey."

"There is nothing wrong with our computer," snapped Atropos, "cursed Time Lord tinkering not withstanding."

"Then what I am looking at?"

"The end," said Clotho quietly.

Donna glared at the young woman. "End of what?"

"The end of all that was, all that is, and all that ever will be," replied Lachesis.

"Unless," added Atropos, "this Rose Tyler decides to save us."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Ouch!" said Rose. She automatically popped the pricked finger in her mouth.

Concerned, Acaxia leaned over and said, "Did you prick yourself again? You should really be more careful. My brood-father won't be happy if you poke yourself full of holes."

Rose pulled the digit from her mouth and pouted. "I know, but these hooks are sharp. I honestly don't know how you manage."

A quick glance at Rose's weaving demonstrated clearly her lack of artistic talent. While Acaxia's project was forming quite nicely into a likeness of Zaizan, Rose's attempt looked more like a messy pile of yarn.

Acaxia clucked woefully over the sight. "You will have to undo all that and start again."

Rose huffed and began picking at the threads.

"I don't understand," said Acaxia with a cock of her head. "You sing beautifully."

Rose blushed. "Thank you. So do you."

"So how come you have such trouble with this?"

Rose shrugged and focused intently on her work.

The class had spent a great deal of time on the singing, practicing the Songs of Creation and Unmaking over and over until Rose thought the notes would stay with her even in her dreams. The caress of the music that slid just under her skin was constant now, and Rose tried not to think about what that might mean.

But then came tutelage in the actual weaving, and Rose had to admit to herself that she sucked. The hooks were sharp and the patterns were complex requiring a great amount of concentration. She wouldn't mind her lack of competence so much if she were trying to weave something as complicated as a portrait of Zaizan, but she had settled on a distinctly less complicated picture of an apple, and it still turned out to be a mess.

Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she carefully undid her stitches. A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump and her grip to slip. "Damnit!" she said loudly, sucking on the newly injured digit.

The teacher stood over shoulder perusing her work. "The Golden Mother is having difficulty?"

"Yeah. You could say that." Rose felt a little cowed when Leiarga cocked her head and regarded her with intense eyes.

"Why do you think you have trouble with this when you mastered the Calling of the Polestar so quickly?"

"I've never been good at arts and crafts," replied Rose.

"Acaxia," said Leiarga, "tell me about the Farinzian who attempts to force the wind."

The fledgling sat straighter, but she looked at Rose when she replied. "If he goes too slowly, he falls from the sky. If he goes too fast, he tires before he reaches his destination and still falls from the sky."

"Then how must we fly?"

"Feel the wind whichever way it blows and respond to it from the heart."

"Very good, Acaxia." Acaxia preened under the praise.

"You struggle, Golden Mother," said Leiarga, "because you think you know how the end result should appear and are attempting force your will. I know you felt the music; the evidence was there for us all to see. So, too, you must feel the pattern. It will guide you to the next stitch."

"Feel the pattern?" repeated Rose. She scrutinized the mess of yarn in her lap and could not see anything but a pile of chaos. "How?"

Leiarga leaned down and spoke near her ear. "You know how. You just need to remember."

Rose grunted in frustration. "That's what Acaxia said, but I can't even figure out how to get started. All I see is a pile of string."

"You are looking at the wrong thing," said the teacher. "All things start from the center. Focus on the Polestar; listen to what it tells you. Allow it to guide you."

Rose felt Acaxia give her a gentle pat on the arm. "You can do it, Rose. I know you can. Listen for the wind."

She eyed the moppet. "OK. I'll try."

Rose closed her eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled several deep breaths. Letting go of her frustration, she mentally grabbed hold of the energy coursing beneath her skin and directed it toward the miniature Polestar.

When she felt calm and connected, she opened her eyes. The Polestar glowed like a tiny sun, pulsing in time with something Rose could not hear. Following the direction of her young friend, Rose opened her mind and listened.

For several seconds she heard nothing but the chirping of excited Farinzians, the distant cries of hawkers selling their wares, and the hustle and bustle of the city that surrounded her. Rose listened harder; beneath the noise of the city she could hear the beat of wings against the air and the sound of wind rustling in the trees.

But hearing the effects of wind is not the same as hearing the wind. How she knew this, she could not say, but Rose redoubled her focus. Tuning out all extraneous sound she concentrated on the Polestar.

And then she heard it; a quiet shift in the spectrum of sound that pulsed in a rhythm all its own. To Rose, though, it sounded very much like a heartbeat she had heard once a long time ago.

Unbidden, her fingers began to move, weaving the colored yarn in time to the rhythm, following its direction. An anchor thread there, a splash of color here, a snip to an extraneous thread – before she realized it, she had created the outlines and begun to fill in a very distinctive shape.

"See?" said Acaxia. "I told you, you could do it. I knew you would remember how because my Brood-father said you would, and he is very smart. But what is it?"

"What?" muttered Rose. Acaxia's voice had interrupted her concentration and it took her a moment to collect herself. "I-"

Rose looked at the loom she held in her hands with no little sense of wonder and surprise. Following the sound of the wind had led her to weave a unique shape with the threads.

Acaxia nudged her arm. "What is it? I've never seen anything like it. It's so blue."

Her mouth curled up into a smile. "It's a TARDIS."

"A TARDIS," repeated Acaxia slowly, wrapping her tongue around the syllables.

"Yes. She is one of the most magnificent creatures in all the universes."

Acaxia was silent for a moment, staring at the half-finished weaving. "Do you think I'll ever get to see one?"

Rose beamed a smile at her. "I certainly hope so. I hope we both do."

"Acaxia!" said Zaizan as he hurriedly approached. "Do you bother the Golden Mother?"

Acaxia opened her beak to protest, but Rose beat her to it. "Zaizan, it's alright. She's not bothering me. She's helping me. "See?" she said, proffering her loom. "I'm not any good at weaving, and Acaxia has been coaching me." She winked at Acaxia. "She's quite good."

Zaizan lifted one large hand and patted his daughter on the head. "I am pleased, Brood-daughter."

Acaxia sat up straighter and preened, while Rose smiled broadly.

Zaizan caressed Acaxia's head with a few more gentle strokes before addressing Rose. "It is time Golden Mother."

The smile dropped from Rose's mouth. "What? It can't be time. I'm not ready!" Panic crept into her voice as she scrambled to her feet.

The birdman cocked his head at her. "It is time. You sent the signal."

"Signal? I didn't send any signal."

Zaizan pointed to the Temple of the Fates. "There."

Rose obediently gazed into the distance. Scrawled in large dark letters across the front of the building were the words she had learned to dread – Bad Wolf. Seeing those words, that clarion call across space and time caused her to tremble. "But I'm not ready," she whispered.

"You think that you are."

She choked on a humorless laugh. "I've been wrong before."

"You are not wrong now. We must travel to the beginning that is also an end."

"We?" The look she gave Zaizan was hopeful.

Zaizan raised one great wing and patted Rose on the head as he had done for his daughter moments before. "It is my now and future honor to serve you, Golden Mother."

"I don't know what that means," she said. "But if it means we go together, then I'm eternally grateful."

There was a tug on her shirt sleeve and Rose looked down to see Acaxia. The young Farinzian threw both of her wings around Rose in a clumsy hug. "You can do it, Rose. I know you can! And when you've saved everything you can come back and we can go find a TARDIS together. It will be fun!"

Rose ran her fingers through the soft feathers before returning the embrace. "You've got a deal."

"Just remember," added Acaxia pulling back, "you know it already. Listen to the wind and you will remember."

Rose nodded. "Let's go."

Zaizan lifted from the ground in a powerful flap of his wings, and latched onto Rose's shoulders. The pair soared through the sky towards the unknown.

* * *

Donna watched in silence as the Doctor paced from one end of the reception hall to the other. He was the picture of caged energy - suit jacket unbuttoned, tie askew, hair showing the effects of restless fingers. She thought that if they didn't give him something to do soon, he might actually explode.

She shifted her gaze to the other Doctor. He leaned against his TARDIS, arms crossed, mouth pressed in a firm angry line. The fury that blazed in his blue eyes was directed at the biddies who sat near her in the throne-like chairs around the banquet table.

Donna huffed loudly and tossed her hat onto the table. "This is ridiculous! The universe is about to be destroyed and we're sitting on our asses!"

"We aren't sitting. We're waiting," replied Atropos.

"Waiting for what?" demanded the Doctor. He turned on his heel and marched up to the table; Donna thought she could see storm clouds in his brown eyes. "You say that Rose is the only one who can stop this. If that were true, and I'm not convinced that it is, then we should be trying to find her."

Atropos rose to her feet and faced-off with the Doctor. "We don't need to find her, moron. She will come to us."

"And just how do you know that? She's human, despite what you say, and I happen to know for a fact that she doesn't have a spare TARDIS hiding in her pocket. How is she supposed to get here exactly? Fly?"

Donna heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like the grinding of teeth.

"We've got it covered," snarled Atropos. "And even if we didn't, you wouldn't be able to find her."

"Oh really?" said the Doctor nastily.

Lachesis laid a hand on Atropos's arm. "He won't believe you no matter what you say," she said softly. "Show him."

"The git doesn't deserve it."

"Maybe not, but he – they - won't stop until you do." She jerked her head in the direction of the other Doctor, who pushed himself off his TARDIS and began walking towards them. His hands were balled into fists.

Atropos heaved a sigh and rapped her cane on the floor. "Oh alright. Follow me, idiots."

Lachesis waved as Donna and both Doctors followed Atropos to the far right of the reception chamber. "Have a good trip," she called cheerily. "Clotho and I will stay here in case Rose arrives while you gone."

"Yeah, yeah." Atropos reached what appeared to be a solid wall. She placed her hand on an unremarkable area and one entire section slid to the side revealing a set of ornate double doors. Atropos pushed them open and beckoned everyone inside.

There was just enough space in the tiny room for everyone, but the fit was rather close. Atropos closed the doors behind her and elbowed her way to the right and touched a small inset square of pink marble. It rotated to reveal a miniature control panel.

"Oh brilliant," said the Doctor eyeing the panel with delight. "You've got a multilateral, multiverse time and space levitation travel pod."

"A what?" asked Donna.

It was the leather clad Doctor that answered. "Big mouth means a lift."

"A lift?" asked Donna. "You've got a lift?"

"And why shouldn't I have a lift?" Atropos asked.

"Well excuse me," Donna said. "I just didn't know you had more than one floor."

"Girl, it doesn't travel between floors. It travels between the lines of the Tapestry."

Donna's eyes grew wide. "Oh."

Atropos turned to the Doctors. "You have visited Wulfix 7?"

"Of course!" said the suited Doctor before the one in leather had a chance to respond. "Everyone knows about its seven colored moons." He turned to Donna. "On a certain day of the year, the seven moons line up and it looks like a planetary rainbow. It's simply brilliant!"

Atropos punched a bunch of keys on the console. "I've keyed in the coordinates for that world on that day. Should be there in a minute."

Donna suddenly felt herself careening sideways, crashing into the blue-eyed Doctor. Before she could mutter an apology, she felt weightless and her stomach launched itself into her throat as the elevator dropped at an intimidating rate of speed.

The elevator abruptly stopped moving and Donna heard a dainty ding indicating they had arrived; she was hopelessly crumpled on top of a glaring blue-eyed Doctor.

"Do you mind?"

"Here you go Donna," said the lanky Doctor, extending her a helping hand. "Heave ho! Up on your feet you go."

With his assistance Donna was able to climb off the Doctor and gain her feet. Her traveling companion gallantly offered her his arm and she took it.

"Let's go see the moons of Wulfix 7, shall we? Allonsy!"

Without waiting for Atropos, he pushed open the doors of the elevator, and Donna gasped. "It's beautiful," she said.

Standing on the threshold, Donna stared at the seven moons in the night sky, arrayed in a perfect arc. Each moon burned a different color, like a string of lustrous pearls. It did look like a rainbow, only it was so much more grandiose and if Donna were honest she'd admit that the sight took her breath away.

"Indeed," replied the Doctor. "No more gawking from the shelter of the doorway. I'll bet the view would be much more impressive from that hill over there."

In unison, the two took one step out of the transport and the scene completely changed. Gone were the brilliantly colored moons; in their place was an expanse of white and blue.

Donna shivered violently feeling as if she had suddenly been dunked in a vat of ice water. Everywhere she looked there were large crests of ice as if tidal waves had frozen instantaneously. Bright sunlight streamed from the sky and the mountains of ice sparkled like crushed diamond.

She squeezed the Doctor's arm. "D-D-Doctor?"

"Woman Wept," said the other Doctor.

"Why did you bring us here?" he demanded, rounding on Atropos. "Are you sure you put in the correct coordinates?"

"Of course I did," snapped Atropos. "I'm proving a point. Now get back in here unless you want your companion to freeze."

The trio obediently crammed themselves back into the small space and closed the doors. Atropos smacked a large green button and the elevator rocketed off. Donna was prepared for the motion this time; she had wedged herself into a corner, so when the motion stopped, the bell rang, and they tumbled out into the reception chamber, she was not clinging to an unfamiliar Doctor.

"Back already?" called Lachesis. "That was a fast trip."

"What," demanded the blue-eyed Doctor, "was that?" He rounded on Atropos, his stance full of menace.

"That," she snapped, "was a consequence of the fall of Gallifrey."

Donna felt her traveling companion suck in an agonized breath and she squeezed his arm in response.

Lachesis smile wanly. "Atropos dear, I think you had best let me explain," she said kindly.

Atropos said nothing, but stalked off, her cane tapping out a frustrated rhythm on the floor.

"Gallifrey was originally created to be the Nexus of the Tapestry," she began. "Weaving in more than two dimensions is tricky if there is no central core to hold it all together. Chronos insisted that Gallifrey would be perfect. He would take your people and mold them into the guardians we needed."

"You're talking about Rassilon?" asked the leather-clad Doctor disbelievingly.

"Yes, I think he did go by some other name. Rassafrass or some such."

"Chronos is an arrogant bastard!" Atropos added.

"Maybe," said Clotho, "but he sure is a handsome arrogant bastard." She sighed dreamily. "Yum."

"Yes, well," said Lachesis. She straightened her skirt before continuing as if the gesture would soothe the crudeness of companions' remarks. "The arrangement worked perfectly for thousands of years, but we three prefer not to leave things to chance. We created a contingency plan, wove it into the very fabric of the Weave. We always hoped it would never have to be used. But as you just saw, the Tapestry is disintegrating."

Lachesis eyed them with pity and Donna squeezed the Doctor's arm in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"You cannot find Rose because the worlds have shifted. The anchor is lost. You could spend all your regenerations trying different sets of coordinates and never end up where you intended."

Donna snorted loudly. "That'd be no different then."

"Oi!" exclaimed the Doctor. "I'm not that bad of a driver."

"Oh, Doctor," she said patting him on the arm, "of course you are."

"I suppose you think you could do better?"

"Well, yeah. Wouldn't be hard."

"So," interrupted the blue-eyed Doctor loudly, "you're saying we wait."

"Wait?" The Doctor eyed his counterpart with disbelief. "We can't just wait! This is Rose!"

"I know –"

"Stop!" yelled Donna hoping to forestall an argument. "Look!" She pointed at the floor.

All eyes followed Donna's direction. As they watched, the words 'Bad Wolf' slowly coalesced. The letters were bold and black, a stark contrast to the pale marble floor.

"Rose," breathed the Doctor. The word was no more than a whisper of breath but the utterance was filled with longing. Donna found she could not tell from which Doctor the sound had come.

The room was suddenly flooded with blinding light and Donna used her arm to shield her eyes. Two shapes moved in what she thought was one of the many parking alcoves, two of which housed TARDISes. The shapes were no more than dark splotches, shadows moving in contrast to the brilliant white light that surrounded them all.

"Doctor, what's happening?" Donna asked.

And then she heard it, a tiny gasping of breath followed by a solitary word.

"Doctor?"


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The closer Zaizan carried them to the Temple, the bigger the knot in Rose's stomach grew until she felt she might choke on it. Rose Tyler, not only Defender of the Earth, but Savior of the Universe as well? What if she couldn't do it? What if she couldn't figure out what she was supposed to do in time? Saving the universe was the Doctor's job, and he was conspicuous in his absence.

Rose sighed and looked upwards at her bird-man companion. If Zaizan noticed the tension in her body as they soared through the air and glided down the long passageway and into the main chamber, he gave no sign. In fact, Rose could detect nothing from him but a quiet confidence. He believed in her, and she was unsure if that made her feel better or worse.

There was no more time for reflection, however, as Zaizan lightly deposited her on the polished floor of the Judging chamber. The Council of Five was in attendance, their dark eyes filled with expectation. Rose shivered.

Zaizan addressed his brood-brother and leader of the Council, Zaizin. "The foretold time is upon us."

Zaizin cocked his head and stared intently at Rose. "Are you certain?"

"The sign has been given," replied Zaizan bobbing his head. "We must travel to the End that is also the Beginning."

Zaizin took his time in responding, and Rose felt his scrutiny as intensely as she would have felt his touch. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other and finally jammed her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans.

The bird-man finally ruffled his feathers and bobbed his head. "Very well. May your journey be successful, Golden Mother." He bowed low, a gesture soon followed by the rest of the Council.

"Thank you," Rose said softly.

Zaizan put a hand on her shoulder and led her to the wall opposite the Judging platform. To Rose, it looked as smooth and polished as everything else in this room, and she looked askance at Zaizan.

In reply, he pointed, and Rose followed his finger. There was a very slight indentation on the wall in the form of a human hand. If one didn't know it was there, it would be very easy to miss.

Slowly, Rose extended her hand and placed it flush against the indentation. It was a perfect match. This wasn't just a handprint on the wall; this was _her_ handprint on the wall, and question upon question began building in her brain.

Before she was able to give her questions voice, a glimmering outline in the shape of a large archway appeared. Startled, Rose jerked back from the wall, and in the very next second the crystalline surface imploded and the doorway filled with blinding white light.

"What -?" Rose stuttered as she covered her eyes.

"Come," said Zaizan, and she felt his taloned hand take hers. As if realizing that she couldn't see, he led her slowly through the doorway. There was the sensation of weightlessness and the sound of rushing air, and then the floor disappeared from beneath her feet.

Rose squawked loudly and clasped onto Zaizan with both hands. Trusting him implicitly, she allowed him to guide her through this brilliant nothingness. It didn't take long before the roar of air quieted and she felt solid ground beneath her feet once again. Rose let go of a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

She risked opening her eyes a crack and saw that the light was receding slightly. If she squinted she could make out darker shapes against the bright background. And then she heard it, a female voice asking a question she had asked herself many times before.

"Doctor, what's happening?"

Rose couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her, nor her instinctual reply. "Doctor?" The word quavered with hope and the fear of being mistaken.

She need not have worried.

"Rose!" the word rushed at her like a freight train, and the single syllable said in _that_ way by _that_ oh so familiar voice brought a smile to her face and tears of joy to her eyes. He was here!

The bright light continued to fade, and left her blinking. She might not be able to see him, but she aimed herself in the direction of his voice, her feet moving instinctively. "Doctor!" she shouted, determined to get to him as fast as she possibly could.

She didn't get very far. Zaizan wrapped her in one of his massive wings and pulled her protectively to his chest. Rose felt the brush of feathers from her hair, down her back, all the way to her ankles.

"Wait!" she said as she struggled to get free. Wiry muscles as strong as steel held her fast. "You don't under-"

"Who are you to approach the Golden Mother," demanded Zaizan in a tone Rose had never heard him use before. He sounded determined and fierce, and very very angry.

The squeak of trainers stopped abruptly. "Who am I?" the Doctor demanded indignantly. "Who am I? I am the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, the Oncoming Storm, and that is my companion you are man – er bird-handling."

Rose heard the thump of shoes with hard soles approach. "A better question might be who are you to keep her from me?"

Rose sucked in a deep breath and got a mouthful of feathers. She knew the second voice as well, those northern tones that she adored but thought she would never again hear. Was it possible that both of her Doctors were here? Her mind flashed back to the smallest glimpse of a worn leather jacket she had seen in the recording Zaizan had given her.

She redoubled her efforts to get free. "Zaizan –" she coughed uselessly trying to spit out the feathers that impeded her speech. "Wait-"

"I am Zaizan," the bird-man replied. "And it is my now and future honor to serve the Golden Mother."

There was a deep silence following his words, and Rose knew positively that this phrase held some significance. She'd have to find out about it later, though. Right now, there were more important things to do.

Finally clearing her windpipe enough to speak clearly, she said, "It is alright Zaizan. I know him…them. He is… they are… important to me. Please let me go."

His grip loosened slightly, just enough for Rose to pull back and look up at him. "Rose Tyler is certain? This Doctor is to be allowed?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Rose said unequivocally. There was probably nothing in her life about which she was more certain.

Zaizan inclined his head, and suddenly Rose was free. Turning on her heel, she crashed into the nearest Doctor and held on tight. Her arms slid across leather and she pressed her cheek into the rough wool of his sweater and smiled. He smelled just as she remembered – a combination of old leather, mechanical grease, and some unidentified exotic spice. She squeezed with all her might and was delighted when he returned the embrace just as tightly.

Pulling back, she gazed up into the hard planes of his face and his twinkling blue eyes and smiled. "I never thought I'd see you again," she said softly. She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. On impulse, she stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his mouth.

He didn't kiss her back, not really, and certainly not with the same intensity or passion that she was trying to convey, but that was alright. Rose didn't know when this was for him; for all she knew, there was an earlier Rose waiting for him to return, and her actions at this point in time might screw up everything that was yet to come. But if she were honest with herself, she didn't really care. She had him back, if only for a short time, and didn't plan on making the same mistakes she had made before.

She heard the sound of sneakers being scuffed against a polished floor and smiled into her kiss. Was it possible to hear a pout? She knew without looking that her other Doctor had his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched and his face torn between a pout and a smile. It wouldn't be long now…

"Oi! How long do you plan to hog her?"

She pulled back from her first Doctor and gave him a huge smile before turning and plowing into her second Doctor. This one lifted her from her feet and twirled her around in a circle before nearly smothering her in his embrace. He smelled different than she remembered, like crisp linen that had been hung out to dry in the sun. Rose didn't mind in the slightest.

When she worked free, she looked into his brown eyes and said quite clearly, "And you said it was impossible."

"Now Rose, when I told you it was – umph."

Not wanting to hear the long-winded speech she knew he intended to give on how he could be wrong but really be right, she grabbed hold of his tie and yanked. Planting her mouth on his, she kissed him for all she was worth.

This Doctor hesitated only a moment before giving as good as he got. She didn't know what had changed for him since they had been separated, but gone was the restraint she had expected. His mouth on hers was desperate and hungry and searching, and by the time she needed a breath, Rose felt sure her toes were curled.

She grinned up at him and he grinned back, showing all of his teeth. "That's the last time I listen to you about whether or not something is impossible."

"Well," he said cheerily, "that may be the last time I believe myself on that very subject as well."

"Doctor," said an unfamiliar voice, "are you going to introduce me or not?" Rose noticed a woman with bright red hair smiling at her and extending her hand. "Oh, he is so rude. Can't take him anywhere."

The smile was broad and good-natured; Rose couldn't help but return it even though she deduced that this was the Doctor's new companion. She clasped the woman's hand and shook it. "Don't I know it."

"I'm Donna Noble, and I am very pleased to meet you, Rose Tyler."

"You are? You know who I am?"

"Of course! This one won't stop talking about you," Donna said pointing at the suited Doctor. "Natters on like a Granny, he does."

"You talked about me?" she asked the Doctor in surprise. He made a habit of never talking about the ones he traveled with before. Once they were gone, he locked them up tight in his memory, never to share those treasured moments with another soul. Was she hearing right?

The Doctor looked into her face and said seriously, "I did say you weren't like the others."

"Yeah," she said softly. "You did, but I thought –"

Suddenly the Doctor frowned, and drew extremely close. His hands rose to cup her cheeks and he peered intently into her eyes. "Doctor?"

He didn't answer, merely tilted her head this way and that as if trying to get a better view. Still not satisfied, one hand left her cheek to rummage in his pocket. When he brought the sonic screwdriver close to her eyes and activated it, Rose felt a frisson of fear. "Doctor, what-?"

He pulled away and stared at the readings from the screwdriver. "I'm sorry, Rose, but your eyes…"

"You're just now noticing?" said the leather-clad Doctor. "Slow on the uptake, aren't we?"

"If you noticed, why didn't you say something?" barked the suited Doctor.

"What's wrong with my eyes?" demanded Rose.

"You're scaring her," Donna hissed at the two Doctors. "I don't see anything wrong. They are a different color than I expected, but there is certainly nothing wrong."

"What color are they?" Rose croaked. "They aren't brown?"

Before Donna could reply, a young woman with golden braids got in her face and peered into her eyes. "Like, they're totally not brown," said the girl. "More like honey gold. I wouldn't worry about it though. It's totally like part of the transformation."

"Transformation?" squeaked Rose. "What are you talking about?"

"Clotho," barked an old woman. "Out of the way."

Clotho obediently moved and the crone took her place. Instead of peering into her eyes, the old woman stood before Rose looking her up and down. "Hmpf."

"What's wrong, Atropos?" A woman with a foot-high beehive tottered over on heels entirely too high, though Rose had to admit that she appreciated the color. "Does she not meet your expectations?"

"She's shorter than I expected, Lachesis," grunted Atropos. "And has entirely too much Time Lord involvement." She cast a disparaging glance at the two Time Lords.

"You are wrong," said Lachesis. "The Bad Wolf is perfect, just as she is." She reached forward and clasped Rose's hand. "Don't you listen to Atropos. She's a perpetual grump. And you are simply divine just the way you are."

"Um, thank you?" It was the kind of sentiment one generally liked to hear, but in the current situation Rose thought it was more than a little creepy. She pulled away and backed up several steps. Her reaction came just in time, too, for the old hag poked Beehive with a wicked looking cane.

"I'm the eldest and I say she isn't perfect!" said Atropos.

"And what would you know about perfect?" Lachesis shot back. "That's certainly a place you've never visited."

"Can we like not do this right now?" asked Clotho.

As the three women she had just met devolved into an argument, Rose turned to find the Doctor, only to discover that he was in a heated discussion with his previous self.

"And who did she run to first? Oh, yes. That would be me," said her first Doctor smugly.

"Fat lot of good it did her," her second one chimed in. "I saw how you kissed her. She would have gotten more of a charge from kissing a Venusian Electric Trill! Or even a regular human-made light socket! Obviously I'm the one with the gifted tongue." He stuck out said tongue and pointed at it triumphantly. "Thee?"

"Oh my gawd!" shouted Donna, jumping into the fray with both feet, "I can't believe you're arguing about this! With yourself! How much of a dunce can you be?"

Rose sighed and rubbed her forehead. In those few quiet moments in Pete's world when she wasn't grieving or trying to adjust to her new life, she would allow herself to picture a reunion with the Doctor. They would run towards each other as fast as possible, their shoes digging into the sand of that horrible beach in Norway. Or he would show up in the TARDIS while she sipped tea at the corner café. And it would always, always end with Rose and the Doctor riding off together in the TARDIS for more adventures.

Never in her wildest dreams did she picture anything like this.

Rose drew a deep breath and prepared to shout over the ruckus. Before she could exhale, a loud, shrill screech exploded in the marble chamber and reverberated off the walls. Rose winced and clapped her hands over her ears one moment before a large hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her backward. She was pulled flush against a warm, soft, feathered chest and was immediately covered with two very large wings.

The attention-getting scream had done its job; there was nothing but silence for a full minute after the final echoes had faded. And into this sudden quiet, Zaizan made a clear declaration. "The Golden Mother deserves respect."

Rose reached forward with her fingers and pushed a few feathers apart so she could see. The two Doctors looked remorseful, while Donna appeared apologetic. The three women looked contrite. They milled about in a small group seemingly trying to determine which one would approach the bird-man.

The suited Doctor cleared his throat. "Quite right," he said, and then winced at choice of words.

Lachesis broke from the small group and approached Zaizan. "We apologize Zaizan. We intended no disrespect to your charge. It has been a stressful experience waiting for her arrival." She cast a meaningful glance towards the two Time Lords.

Atropos tottered up, her cane clacking loudly in the relative silence. "Zaizan," she said, "you have served us well. Of all the creatures in the universe, you alone do I not wish to offend." She inclined her head slightly, and Rose thought she heard someone choking in the background. Atropos ignored the interruption. "Thank you for bringing her to us."

It was the right thing to say. Rose felt the bird-man's muscles relax, and with a soft flutter, his wings retracted and she stood exposed.

Atropos extended a gnarled hand. "Come child."

Rose hesitantly stepped forward. "Tell me what to do," she said with a quaver in her voice.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Follow me," said Atropos.

Rose hesitated, but then fell in line behind the old hag. It wasn't long before she was flanked on each side by a Doctor, each tightly grasping a hand.

Atropos led them out of the reception hall and into the Tapestry viewing chamber. She walked past the immense computer and skirted the sunken chamber in the center of the floor. She stopped in front of a small and relatively non-descript metal door. The door was solid and bore the patina of age. There was no door handle Rose could see, but there was an oddly shaped lock.

"Excuse me," said Clotho, pushing past Rose. As she breezed past, Rose saw a large piece of metal in her hand. Clotho blocked the lock with her body, and Rose could not see how to work the mechanisms, but after a few short seconds, she heard the loud rasp of a bolt pulling back. Another loud click and Clotho pulled. The door slid open easily despite its bulk, the hinges well-oiled.

The room they piled into was small compared the vastness of the chamber they had just left. The room was well-lit despite the fact that there were no visible light fixtures. Instead, ambient light spilled out of a series of tall clear cylindrical tubes that lined one wall.

Curious, Rose drew close to the nearest one and peered inside. The contents appeared alive; a swirling golden morass that darted to and fro, not unlike a lava lamp she had seen in a junk store. She placed a hand on the cylinder and the energy surged forward, framing her appendage with what seemed to Rose to be delight. She couldn't help but smile.

"It's beautiful," she said softly more to herself than anyone else.

"Yes," said Clotho. "It knows you."

Rose giggled feeling suddenly happy, and she pressed harder with her hand, as if pressure alone would be enough to remove the barrier. She thought she heard someone calling her name, but ignored it. She was so close now…

A hand shot out and grabbed her own, forcibly pulling it away from the cylinder. Rose blinked rapidly and looked at the Doctor.

"What-?" she asked.

The suited Doctor waggled a finger at her even as he squeezed her hand. "Now Rose, you know better than to go touching things that don't belong to you."

Donna scoffed. "So says the Space-Man who experiences the universe through the use of his tongue."

The leather-clad Doctor made a disgusted grunt. "You lick things? That's your quirk?"

The Doctor sniffed. "It's better than having a leather fetish."

The relatively normal exchange pulled Rose from her reverie, and she turned her attention to the rest of the small room. On the opposite wall were a series of pegs, each holding a skein of golden thread. The thread twinkled and glowed in a manner similar to contents of the cylinder. Sitting squarely in the center of the room was a simple spinning wheel. The evidence of earlier labors were still to be seen glistening on the wheel.

In the far recesses of the room was a large square of burnished metal inset into the wall. It was large enough to serve as a door, but there was no handle, and Rose could not detect any obvious hinges. Next to the metal panel, affixed to the marble wall was a large lever. But the most distinctive and terrifying aspect of that unremarkable piece of metal was the phrase 'Bad Wolf' that was scrawled across the front in a golden, glowing script.

As she stared at the ominous words, she felt a nudge at her elbow.

"Here," Atropos said, extending a wicked looking pair of shears. "Take this. You will need it."

Rose grasped the scissors and shivered.

"Now hold on just one minute!" shouted the Doctor with alarm.

"Idiot!" said Atropos. "She won't be able to repair the Tapestry without the shears."

"So," said Donna, "she needs to take some of that thread there and do some sewing? Doesn't sound too hard."

"Oh no," said Clotho. "She has to go to the Source."

"The what?"

"The Source. It is, like, the place where the glowy stuff comes from." She pointed at one of the clear cylinders. "It provides the raw material I use on my spinning wheel."

"Why can't she just use what's already there?" asked Donna.

"Because, girl –" Atropos fell silent when Lachesis placed a hand on her arm.

"Let me, Atropos. This will be hard enough without you making it worse." Atropos nodded. "The skeins you see here are what we use to repair, or modify the Tapestry. We cannot use these threads to repair the Polestar. For that, Rose must go into the Source."

"Does she?" piped the brown-eyed Doctor. "It seems to me that Clotho is already familiar with the Source, working with it on a regular basis like she does. Why don't you go into the Source and handle it? Hmmm?"

"Oh, I don't ever go into the Source. It is totally forbidden."

"Then how do you -?"

"The cylinders," Clotho said, patting the nearest one. "When the supply gets low, I turn a valve and it sucks in the material I need."

"You want Rose to go into the Source, when you won't do it yourself?" Donna asked incredulously. "That's just rude."

Clotho was more than a little bewildered by Donna's reaction. "But, she is the only one who can!"

"She'll die in there!" shouted the brown-eyed Doctor. "If it is anything like the Vortex, she will burn from the inside out. No one is meant to see that!"

Clotho wrung her hands. "She has to go. If she doesn't, like, everything will be destroyed!"

"Doctor," said Rose, clutching the shears tightly with both hands, "maybe I should –"

"No!" said both Doctors in unison.

"There has to be another way," said the one in the suit.

"I forbid it," declared the one in leather.

Rose shifted from one foot to the other and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Seeking guidance, she turned to her friend who had been her constant companion since this ordeal had begun. "Zaizan?" she asked.

Zaizan bowed low. "The decision belongs to the Golden Mother."

"No it doesn't," said her second Doctor emphatically. He moved in front of Rose and extended his hand. "Give me the shears, Rose."

Atropos snorted. "You? You are not prepared. You don't know the Songs."

The Doctor whirled to face her. "Oh, you'd be surprised. I know over 5 billion languages and twice as many songs. Not to mention the fact that my voice has brought professional opera singers to tears."

"They were probably crying from pain," muttered Atropos. "You, Time Lord, cannot fix this."

"Just watch me!" he shouted. "Rose, give me the shears." He again stretched out his hand.

She pulled the scissors in close to her chest and took a step backwards. "Doctor, no. Please no."

"It's alright Rose," he said. "Everything will be fine. You and Donna will go with him." He indicated the leather-clad Doctor with a nod of his head. The blue-eyed Doctor returned the nod, and a quick flash of mutual understanding and purpose passed between them.

"What?" screeched Donna. "I don't want to go with him! He's mean!"

"Hey!" protested the Doctor in question.

"Donna, please-," the Doctor started.

"No! You're about to go do something heroic but incredibly stupid, aren't you?" Donna yelled.

"You can't -," pleaded Rose.

"It will all work out in the end," he said firmly. "I promise. Now, Rose, give me the shears."

Rose felt her eyes well up with unshed tears. He was offering his life for hers, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't tempted. The thought of what lay beyond that door wasn't just frightening, it made her blood freeze in terror, and the picture of her riding off with her first Doctor whom she had missed so much was a tantalizing counterweight.

Besides, saving the universe regardless of the cost was the Doctor's specialty; surely he could save the day and then quip about how easy it was later. If anyone could survive the Source, it would be her Doctor.

"_He will try to take this burden from you. Don't let him. He cannot fix this. Only you can."_

She remembered the words and her grip on the shears tightened. She gazed at his outstretched hand, that hairy manly hand, and saw only a TARDIS in flames. She looked up into the eyes of the Oncoming Storm and saw the lie.

"_When the choice comes, you will be tempted to choose left. Choose right, Rose! Choose right!"_

Rose looked to her left and saw her first Doctor; his icy blue eyes glittered and determination was etched deeply into the hard planes of his face. Donna stood beside him, her cheeks nearly as red as her hair as she glared daggers at her second Doctor.

She looked to the right and saw only that ominous square of metal, its intimidating message beckoning to her as it pulsed.

"Rose," said the Doctor. Her name was not a soft expression of unexpressed feeling, but a hard command. She felt his burning gaze as surely as she would have felt his touch, and she tightened her grip on the shears, suddenly afraid he would attempt to wrest them from her grasp.

"I-," she stuttered. The last thing she ever wanted was to disappoint the Doctor; she wanted to give him no reason to shun her company, but in this instance, it looked as if she would not be given a choice.

"I-," she tried again. Whatever else she would have added to that statement was swallowed up by a loud echoing rattle followed by an ear-splitting bang.

"What the hell?" said Atropos.

"It came from out there," said Lachesis, moving to the door they had entered through only moments earlier. She pushed against the metal and it swung silently outward.

Not one, but two swirling masses of energy darted past her and into the room. Each energy storm was tinged purple.

"Don't look!" shouted the blue-eyed Doctor. He shut his eyes tightly and clapped a hand over Donna's eyes.

"It's the TARDIS," shouted the second Doctor, throwing up his arm to cover his own eyes. "Rose! Don't look!"

Rose did not hear him. As soon as the two hearts burst into the room, she heard nothing but a haunting melody that she knew intimately. Knowing that this energy had come for her, she opened her arms wide, welcoming her old friends.

The energy from the two TARDISes poured into her; the more energy she absorbed, the more pressure she felt. She was asking her body to house more entities than it was designed for, and the fit was tight and uncomfortable. But Rose did not complain; she felt one TARDIS crowding her left, the other crowding her right, and both stretching out to shield her from what was to come.

"The three-in-one," she whispered with understanding.

"Rose!" the Doctor roared. "Not again! Let it go!"

Past, present, and all future possibilities stretched out before her, and in that instant, Rose remembered.

"I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself," she said, the familiar words spilling from her tongue.

"Rose, don't do this! Stop it now!"

Rose ignored his pleas and took a step towards the right. "I took the words and scattered them in time and space. A message to lead myself here."

A few more steps to the right and she was within touching distance of the door, the words 'Bad Wolf' glowing eerily behind her. Hands grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around.

"Rose!" cried the Doctor. "Please, don't."

His brown-eyes were red and shimmering with unshed tears. She reached up and lightly caressed his cheek. "My Doctor," she said. Her hand dropped to her side and she looked from him to her first Doctor. "I want you safe," she added, reaching behind her. "I love you no matter what face you wear. Always remember."

She planted her hand on the metal door behind her, and in between one breath and the next Rose Tyler exploded into a shower of tiny golden particles. The cloud of her essence hovered for a split second before the door shone a matching gold; what was left of Rose pushed through the portal into the unknown.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The atmosphere in the small room was stifling. No one moved, no one breathed, and Donna was fairly certain that there was nothing she could do to make it better. Her traveling companion stood motionless in front of that awful door, his arms outstretched as if he still held Rose tightly in his grasp. And if her Doctor was motionless, the blue-eyed one beside her was positively rigid. Donna fancied she could hear the leather creak as he grew more and more tense.

The three Fates stood off to the side. Lachesis looked sympathetic and ready to fill the role of a comforting mother; Clotho simply looked relieved, but Atropos was smugly smiling.

And then, the brown-eyed Doctor turned round and Donna shivered. The alien peered out at her from behind those eyes, and it wasn't grief that poured out of him, but anger.

"Don't-," Donna started, but was cut off as the Doctor standing beside her moved. Without any preamble, he marched over to the old hag and ripped the cane out of her hands. "Bring her back," he demanded, towering over the small woman.

"I cannot," she said calmly. "Where she has gone, none may follow. It is impossible."

"Really?" said Donna's traveling companion. There was a hard edge to his voice that she had not heard before. "We'll just see about that."

Brown eyes met blue eyes, and Donna saw them both nod. "Of course we will," said the blue-eyed Doctor. "Genius, me. And with two of me around, well –."

"Anything is possible," he said. "Rose taught me that." The Doctor shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket and started walking towards the door that led to the Tapestry viewing chamber. "I'm sure you won't mind if we make use of your equipment."

Atropos let loose with an indignant squawk.

The other Doctor followed clutching the cane. "And even if you do mind, we don't care." Donna caught a glimpse of his icy glare as he walked past and she shivered. "We'll take this entire place apart, piece by piece if we have to."

"Is that what Rose would have wanted?" asked Lachesis. "She gave herself to save everything. Would she want you to tear it all down?"

The soft question made the older Doctor pause for just a moment. His reply made Donna flinch. "I've lost her before. I refuse to do it again. The universe owes me. It's time to settle the debt."

He crossed the threshold, and then looked back. "Donna, are you coming?"

"No. I'd just get in the way of your thingamajigs. I'll wait here until Rose comes back." She paused before adding, "Because she will be back."

"She will," he agreed. "One way or another." He nodded with a quick jerk of his head, and then both Doctors pushed through the door, leaving it wide open.

"Yeah, but don't go destroying everything in the process!" she yelled at their retreating forms. Neither gave any indication they heard.

Donna heard a rustling sound and turned to see Zaizan. "Wait together, we will."

"Sure," she replied before settling herself on the hard floor and affixing that cursed piece of metal with a hard glare. "Try not to take too long, Rose," she thought. "I don't know that he can survive your loss this time."

She craned her neck and peered behind her into the Tapestry viewing chamber. "They will risk everything to get you back." She could not see either Doctor, but sounds of their labors were loud and ringing. "And I don't know that I'll be able to stop them."

* * *

The entity that had once been Rose Tyler was completely free. Her thoughts, such as they were, flowed lazily one to the other much as her essence drifted aimlessly on the raw eddies of time and space. She was nowhere and everywhere, with no hard boundaries to dictate her movements, or restrict her desires. She was simultaneously in the past, the present, and the future, and from this vantage she could see and understand it all.

The sensations were overwhelming, but the Golden Mother felt no fear, no pain. Floating in the heart of everything that was, is, and will be, she was allowed to simply exist, to be a part of the Source and join completely with it. There was a vague recollection that there was something she was supposed to be doing, but each time she tried to chase the thought, it darted from her like a surprised minnow in a pond.

Letting it all go, she contentedly flowed through the current, uncaring of her destination.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle tug. She ignored it in favor of savoring the sense of completion. Another tug quickly followed, harder than the first. This was subsequently followed by a series of pulls and jerks, each more violent than the last.

When this new entity finally realized that this force was ripping her out of the stream, she struggled against it. She had waited too long. With one final great pull, the Golden Mother was ripped out of the heart of the Source; if she had possessed a mouth, she would have screamed.

Her essence was forced to take shape, hard lines and boundaries returned, and she felt two entities surrounding her, holding her in place. She opened newly formed eyes to discover she once again possessed a body, ethereal in nature but still quite binding. Her hair was made of starlight and planets formed stepping stones for her feet, and there above her head churned a large river of golden energy – the Source. It extended as far as she could see, and the Golden Mother could see forever.

Instinctively, she knew that the estuary overhead had been the place of freedom and contentment from which she had just been ripped, and she mourned the loss. Despair, however, was short-lived; her companions began to sing, and through their song, she remembered. This new entity, the Bad Wolf, the Golden Mother, the Three-In-One, recalled Rose Tyler, and the mission to which she had been assigned.

"_Show me the Polestar_," she thought, and the Universe clambered to obey. Stars and planets whizzed by faster than light until Rose could stretch out her hand and hold the pitiably destroyed planet in her palm. Instead of the bright and beautiful glow of a healthy Polestar, Gallifrey pulsed with a putrid green.

The broken threads of the Tapestry of Life hung limp and lifeless, and silent golden tears streamed from her eyes. Each drop flew out into space, and from the sorrow of the Golden Mother, new stars were born.

And then the Golden Mother began to sing. The notes of the Song of Unmaking echoed through the Universe, and it trembled in response. Slowly the failed Polestar, the once noble and proud planet of the Time Lords, released its hold on the anchor threads of life. The hooks retracted and the sickly glow faded until all that remained of Gallifrey was an inert chunk of rock.

Reverently, the Golden Mother allowed the planet to slide off her palm and into its eternal rest enfolded in the welcoming arms of deep space. "_You will be remembered_," she promised, and the Universe shivered in anticipation.

She gathered the loose and dull anchor threads in her hands; at her touch the limp strands came alive, her life giving them rebirth. The Tapestry strands writhed in her hands, desperate to attach themselves to her heart, to claim her as the new Polestar.

The Hearts of the TARDISes had other ideas. When the Golden Mother moved to bring the threads close to her heart, they forced her arm away from her body and held it there. Filling her mind with song, they told her what they wanted.

She paused and listened. "_Alright,_" she thought, "_we will make the universe anew._"

The Golden Mother raised her voice again, this time singing the refrains of the Song of Creation, and the Universe wept with joy. The notes traveled through space echoing the message of rebirth; dead suns rekindled, barren hunks of rock grew life-supporting atmospheres, and swirling pockets of amino acids congealed giving rise to the first stirrings of new life.

And deep within the reaches of empty space, one small blue planet heard the Golden Mother's call and rushed to respond. Again planets and stars flew past until this tiny planet hovered in its orbit before her. It was, perhaps, inevitable that this planet was the one that answered the call; Earth, after all, was the home of Rose Tyler.

She stared at the blue gem slowly rotating on its axis and felt an overwhelming sorrow. "_The humans are not ready for this,_" she thought to her companions. "_But they will learn._"

The first requirement of a Polestar, however, is that there is always and only one. The Golden Mother dropped the anchor threads and extended her hand. There was a bright flash, and where once her hand was empty, it now held a pair of sharp silver shears. Golden tears streamed down her face as she snipped the alternate Earths, collapsing them down into one. It was a gruesome and heart-wrenching task; each cut represented the death of possibilities, alternatives, and lives, but she forced herself to continue until the Earth floated free from the Tapestry, the only one in all of existence, a bridge between all times and all places.

Her work completed, the shears disappeared as they arrived, in a blaze of light. She stretched out her hand until the Earth hovered over her palm and called to the new Polestar. A surge of golden energy from the Source descended from above and enveloped the planet in a blinding light. The energy settled, then began to pulse in time with the notes of the Song. Slowly, like new shoots pushing through the soil to greet the springtime sun, tendrils began to extend from the planet. The new extensions lengthened and curled on the ends forming tiny hooks.

The Golden Mother began her Weaving, guided by the pulses of the Polestar, her fingers moving dexterously from one hook to the other. One after another, she carefully placed each anchor thread, allowing the new Polestar to adjust after each addition. The small planet creaked and groaned with the effort of bearing the weight of the entire Tapestry, a burden for which it was not designed.

When she finished, she surveyed her work. The new Polestar held. Balance was restored to the Weave of Life, though the design was permanently altered.

Yet, the Golden Mother was not satisfied. She stretched out her hand and called to the Source. It followed her command and golden energy poured from above into her palm. Carefully, she shaped the energy and hung it in orbit behind the Earth's moon. Snow capped mountains sloped into plains of red grass dotted with silver-topped trees all encased beneath a red sky. The new moon boasted fields of baby TARDISes uniquely adapted to grow beneath a single sun, and the tiniest Eye of Harmony to provide them with food and energy.

"_You will be remembered,_" she said again, and the Universe sighed with understanding.

Her work completed, she gazed at the Source, certain that she would be allowed to return its infinite warm embrace. Instead, her companions began to sing.

"_Return?_" she asked. She looked around and saw nothing but the vastness of space, and a river of gold overhead. The small blue planet bobbed gently in front of her, but there was a distinct lack of helpful signs pointing her in the right direction. "_How?_"

In response, the TARDISes changed their tune to a single powerful note, one that quickened her pulse and pulled at her heart. The note reverberated in her ears, a single urgent message that must be recognized and obeyed. And as the Golden Mother listened, the note resolved into a single word.

"_Doctor_," she said. The Universe hastened to obey.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The world was consumed in flames.

A large support beam crashed into the TARDIS console dispersing bits of metal and energy into the room, and fire consumed everything in its path. Along the far wall was a large hole. The Doctor assumed it was the TARDIS keeping the room pressurized and preventing him from shooting out into the emptiness of space. He doubted his ship would be able to hold it for long.

He lay on the floor in a smoking heap. Fire had blackened and blistered his skin, and his right arm hung at an odd angle. The hungry flames had eaten most of his velvet jacket, and all of his long brown curls. Only his ascot, smudged with soot and hanging askew was still untouched.

The pain he felt was immense, but it was no less than he deserved. He had, after all, just murdered his entire species. No amount of suffering for such a wretched creature as himself was too much. In his mind, the flames that surrounded him were the fires of his own damnation, and he was determined to suffer them without complaint until he could join his people in death.

A dry tongue tried to moisten blackened lips with no success. The small touch caused him to shudder with pain. True death would be coming for him soon; he had decided to forgo regeneration. Someone who could knowingly commit genocide did not deserve to continue living. There was no atonement for his heinous crime.

Smoke poured into his lungs as he rasped for breath, and he choked. From the corner of one swollen eye, he thought he detected movement, but dismissed it as the shifting of the fire from one object to the next. He was completely surprised when a face appeared above him.

As he lay dying, he stared in amazement at the woman who stood over him. Her hair and eyes glowed brighter than the fire that was ravaging his TARDIS, and though she stood amid the flames, she remained untouched.

His natural inclination towards courtesy overwhelmed him, and he tried to speak. "My lady?" The words were a mere whisper of breath forced between smoke-clogged vocal cords, not audible over the din of destruction, but this woman heard them. She crouched beside him and lightly took his burned hand. The Doctor was surprised to find that the action did not bring him any fresh pain.

"Doctor," she said, and her voice soothed his troubled mind like a healing balm. "I'm lost. Come find me," she pleaded.

He suddenly wanted to obey that plaintive command more than he desired anything else in the Universe. But he was too far gone; he had waited too long to begin the process of regeneration, and now he had missed the opportunity. The sorrow he felt at being unable to fulfill this woman's request was just as intense as the grief he felt at the loss of his people. He did not understand it. Who was this woman that she commanded his emotions so easily?

He opened his lips to apologize, to explain as best he could that he was dying and would not be able to find her. He wanted to warn her to get off this ship as quickly as she could because as he was dying, so too was the TARDIS. The Doctor wished for nothing more than enough breath to express his regret at not being able to stay.

The woman didn't give him the chance. As soon as his lips opened, she leaned forward and placed her mouth on his. Immediately, the Doctor felt his regeneration process begin. It rushed through his body with the force of a tsunami and a speed that sucked the air from his lungs. The energy poured through him, changing his body on the molecular level, and the Doctor felt his very atoms burn. The change was faster than he remembered, the process sped up to compensate for lost time, and he wondered if the new him would suffer any consequences.

She sat back on her heels and reclaimed his one hand in both of hers. A crash resounded to the left and for the first time she seemed to notice where she was and what was happening around her. The Doctor saw her frown for a moment, then wave one hand dismissively. The fire suddenly subsided and then completely extinguished.

She returned her focus to the Doctor, and he saw her stare intently into his eyes. "Find me," she stated again.

The Doctor gazed into her eyes and saw everything he wanted, but felt he did not deserve – acceptance, forgiveness, and love. The change was overtaking him, and he struggled against it, wanting a few moments more to cling to this woman who was his salvation. His lungs heaved as he tried to draw breath to tell her what he felt.

In the end, however, the change was too strong for him to resist. As his vision began to grow black around the edges, and he started to lose consciousness, he choked out his message and hoped she would understand.

"I promise," he gasped.

* * *

"Matter anti-matter transference phase capacitor."

"Checkity check," piped the Doctor, sliding the named component over to his leather-clad counterpart.

The two of them had made a right mess. The door to each TARDIS stood wide open, and there was a trail of grease and mechanical detritus leading to the banquet table, which they had commandeered as a work area. The once pristine reception hall was starting to resemble a 42nd century scrap yard.

The Doctor fingered a grease smear across the ornate table and smirked. Atropos was going to have a fit.

"Seluvian adjustable crescent wrench."

"Right-o!" he replied with unnecessary cheer, digging the item out of the pile of tools and passing it along.

As a rule, the Doctor was not overly fond of working with himself. Each incarnation had his own ideas about how things should be put together, and usually those ideas clashed. But since they really didn't have an exact plan as of yet and were just engaging in a bit of experimental temporal physics, there hadn't been a lot of arguing.

He just wished his other self wasn't so taciturn. He'd give his left shoe for some decent conversation to keep him from dwelling on what might be happening to Rose. The Doctor would even be happy to shoulder the entire conversational burden as long as he could be assured of not getting punched for his efforts. Not for the first time, he wished Donna had tagged along.

"Heat conductive putty."

"Putty, putty," he mumbled as he dug through the implements on the table. "Where, oh where, has my putty gone?" he hummed lightly.

"Nope, no putty," he said finally. "But wait. I think I might have something that might work. Now where did I leave it?" He furiously patted down his pockets, finally selecting the one in his pants on the left side and shoving a hand into it. The transdimensional space sucked in his arm to the elbow.

"Aha!" the Doctor shouted victoriously and pulled out a creased and slightly lint covered piece of gum. "Will this work?"

He proffered the piece of gum, but the short-haired Time Lord made no move to accept it. In fact, his other self was completely rigid. One hand was frozen in mid-air and the other clutched the table in a white-knuckled grip.

"What are you -?" he asked, and then he understood. Cognizance poured into his mind like water into a glass filling the gaps in his memory.

Rose. It was always Rose, even from the beginning. She was the hand that guided him and the light that shone in depths of his despair. He saw her clearly – at the scrap yard when he was looking for a TARDIS to steal, holding his hand as he died from a gunshot wound, appearing to him in an empty TARDIS after the loss of his companion. Rose Tyler had stood with him at every significant moment in each of his lives, always with the same message.

"It was her," the other Doctor said, looking at him with haunted blue eyes. "She saved me."

"Yes. She seems to have made a habit of that."

"I wasn't going to regenerate, you know. I didn't want to live after the Time War."

"I know." The two of them were whispering though the room was empty save for them. "I always wondered why I lived."

The leather-clad Doctor choked out something between a curse and sob. "And even with all of that, here we are, failing her once again."

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair. "Fail her? I think of all of us, you are the only one who kept the promise. Whether conscious or not, you did find Rose out of all the humans on that planet." He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "And then once you find her, I manage to lose her again."

The other Doctor threw the wrench onto the table in fury and glared at the array of parts. "We're spinning our wheels here. There has to be something we can do." When he looked at his older self, his eyes burned with blue fire. "You know they never intended for Rose to come back, there's no way she could without assistance, and those annoying Eternals would rather see us miserable than lift a finger to help."

"No, not all of them. Just the one," he replied with a pensive frown. "Rose isn't completely alone. There is hope."

"Then we need to figure out a way to call to the TARDIS. I'm not going to let her down again! Think, damn you. We are supposed to be geniuses!"

"I don't want to let her down anymore than you do, but we've tried -" He paused in mid-sentence, a strange light coming into his brown eyes.

"What?"

The Doctor suddenly grinned, a smile that showed all his teeth. "I," he paused for dramatic effect, "have just formulated an absolutely brilliant plan!"

With that enigmatic statement, he turned on his heel and made a mad dash for his TARDIS.

* * *

Donna sighed for the umpteenth time and shifted uncomfortably on the floor. The thing about marble floors no one mentioned was that while very pretty to the eyes, they were exceedingly hard. If she sat here much longer, she would lose all feeling in her butt.

She glared at the metal doorway. It stared back at her stoically.

Shifting once again, she glanced over at the bird-man. He was perched near her, his beady eyes unwaveringly fixed on that metal doorway exactly as they had been since he had first taken his position at her side.

Whereas Donna glared at that accursed piece of metal, Zaizan stared at it with resigned acceptance; he waited for Rose's return calmly and patiently. Donna was used to frenzied activity in times of crisis, and a part of her fervently wished he wouldn't sit there looking so unruffled.

"Zaizan," she said.

Whatever else she had been about to say was lost in the subsequent screech that tore through the viewing chamber.

Grateful for a reason to get up, Donna pushed to her feet and ran into the next room. The sound of talons clacking on marble told her that Zaizan was right behind her.

"What has she done?" screamed Atropos.

The old woman stood by the holographic tapestry display. Donna had seen the old bat in varying states of displeasure ranging from slightly annoyed to ready to do a Time Lord physical harm, but now Atropos looked positively apoplectic.

Lachesis put a comforting hand on Atropos's shoulder. "It looks like she fixed it," she said mildly.

"Fixed it? You call that fixing it?"

"Well –"

"What's going on?" demanded Donna.

"Like, it looks like Rose fixed the Tapestry," replied Clotho. She sidled up to Donna and added, "But she like might have totally deviated from the plan."

Donna advanced on Atropos, both hands on her hips. "You ungrateful witch! Rose fixed the Tapestry for you. What more do you want?"

"Fixed the Tapestry?" snarled the old hag. "She's rewoven it! She was supposed to be the new Polestar, not randomly select a new planet for that role!"

To emphasize the point, Atropos pointed at the holographic display. In the center, Donna could see the Earth, but it looked to be covered with some sort of golden cloud. And a kaleidoscope of colored lines extended from it in all directions.

Donna would be the first to admit that she was not the smartest person around, and she did not know what the implications of a changed Earth would be, but something in what Atropos had said brought her a realization. "You never intended for Rose to come back," she said softly.

"Of course not!" snapped Atropos. "You can't just replace one planet with another. It changes the Weave on a fundamental level. Oh, and the planet she's chosen – if you are supposed to be a prime example of the species on that backwards world, then it won't be long before it all crashes and burns."

Donna gasped at the insult to her species. "Look here -,"

"You are wrong," interrupted Zaizan. He shivered with disapproval and fixed Atropos with an intimidating beady stare. "It is foretold that the Golden Mother will give birth to the Universe anew. She will not lead us astray."

"Yeah!" said Donna emphatically. "What he said."

"Quite right!" added the suited Doctor.

Donna rounded on him. "Where have you been?"

"In the TARDIS," he replied smoothly. "Me and, well, the other me, have been working on a way to get Rose back. When we heard screeching I thought perhaps that you had blown a gasket and decided to come see what the fuss was about."

Donna smacked him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"She started yelling first," said Donna. "And then she insulted me, Rose, and all of humanity. "

"I heard," he said. "If you doubt the ability of humans, Atropos, why did you choose one to fill the role of the Bad Wolf in the first place?"

Atropos sniffed and crossed her arms stubbornly.

The Doctor leaned down until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the crone. "I suspect it is for their extreme adaptability, or you thought they were disposable."

"Pfft," she spat.

The Doctor reared back and squinted. He removed his glasses, inspected the lenses, and then pulled a cleaning cloth from his pocket and rubbed vigorously, a frown on his face. "There's no need to act like a Minarin llama."

Atropos ignored the remark. "Using a human would have been perfectly acceptable had she followed the plan, one sacrifice for the many."

"Oh, you poor deluded Eternal. Rose? Follow the plan?" He laughed cheerlessly.

Atropos ignored the remark. "Obviously she didn't follow our intention, and you know as well as I do what awaits the humans, Time Lord. Your people were woefully inadequate and they were created for the job. How do you think the humans will fare?"

Donna huffed. "Is there any species you aren't going to insult today?"

The Doctor slowly replaced his glasses. "I will admit to being more than a little concerned," he said. "Rose often does what her heart tells her regardless of the consequences. But you must concede that the humans have come a long way since they first started to walk upright." He moved past Donna and stared intently at the holographic display.

"Stupid apes."

"Oi!" Donna heard the voice and whipped around to see the ill-tempered Doctor. He was eyeing the display, and holding a large contraption in both hands.

To Donna's eyes, the machine resembled the bowl of a very large food processor; there were handles on each end, and a hole in the middle. The material was transparent and she could see that a lot of gizmos and thingamajigs were packed into the space including some sort of red light that blinked rhythmically every few seconds and, unless her eyes deceived her, a piece of chewed gum.

What surprised her, though, was his expression. It was not set in his customary snarl, and if Donna had to label it, she'd say there was actual affection in his eyes.

He noticed her regard and winked. "Humans may be stupid apes but they never give up hope. And that makes them fantastic."

Her traveling companion agreed with a vigorous nod. "Besides, the people of this new Earth will have something my people did not."

"And what is that? You?" snapped Atropos.

The suited Doctor grinned. "Oh certainly not me. I'm a walking disaster. No, no. I'm talking about the most brilliant Rose Tyler."

Atropos glared at the Doctors for a moment, as if she could change events simply through the force of dirty looks. When both of them merely continued to grin goofily, she sighed deeply.

"Rose Tyler won't be able to help them if she does not make it back."

"Don't you worry about that," said Donna's traveling companion. "Impossible isn't in her vocabulary, and I should know."

"You've done it? You've got a plan?" asked Donna.

"Yep, and it is absolutely brilliant." The brown-eyed Doctor pointed to the alien gadget the other him was carrying. "We're going to play a game called 'Fishing for Rose'."


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"Fishing for Rose?" asked an incredulous Donna. "You've got a head full of space alien smarts, and that's the best you can come up with?"

"Donna!" the Doctor replied. "I hardly think the name of the operation is what matters here."

As he spoke, he led the way back into the room where Rose had disappeared. Donna, Zaizan, and his other self followed close on his heels; the three Fates trailed behind reluctantly.

"I told him the name was stupid," offered the other Doctor in sneering Northern tones. "But with him, it's hard to get a word in edge-wise."

Donna nodded in agreement. "It's good to know at least one Doctor has some sense."

"You are not helping!" replied the suited Doctor, waggling a finger at his younger self.

His younger self smirked. "Was I supposed to be helping?"

"Well, we're here. Now what?" interrupted Donna.

The righteous indignation deflated almost immediately. "Right. Other me, you know what to do. Donna – come help me with all this line."

He bounced over to the wall where the long skeins of golden thread awaited its turn to be woven into the Tapestry.

"Dude, wait!" shouted Clotho. "Like, what are you doing?"

The Doctor tossed the maiden a dismissive glance over his shoulder. "You don't mind if we borrow this, do you? Of course you don't."

Grabbing hold of the mass, he pulled it off the peg and pushed it into Donna's waiting arms.

The threads were soft and silky to the touch; they glided over her skin with a whispery caress, and Donna was afraid that the slightest breath would cause them to disintegrate. So it didn't make much sense that the skein was so heavy.

Staggering with the weight, she followed the Doctor to a space roughly twenty feet in front of the doorway through which Rose had disappeared. Following his example, she gratefully dropped the skein onto the floor.

The sound of a muted thunk made her look to see what the leather-clad Doctor was doing. As she watched, he attached the food processor to the metal door and sealed it with the push of a couple of levers positioned near the handles.

"Ready to go here," he said.

"Right!" said her traveling companion. As she watched, he tied the ends of two skeins of thread together and then rummaged around in his pocket. He pulled out a piece of cloth and tied it to one end of the massive length of rope. Donna noted that the cloth was covered in black soot and was singed along the edges.

"What is that?" asked Donna.

"Didn't Wilf teach you that when fishing it is always important to use bait?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't look like a worm to me."

"Very clever! I always knew you were bright. That would be because it is not, in fact, a worm. But it should attract us a Rose just the same. And if it doesn't, the homing beacon should at least attract our TARDISes."

"Homing beacon?"

"Yep. That would be the blinking red light."

"Oh. And the gum?"

"Holds it all together!" he said with entirely too much enthusiasm. "It was chewed by your very own Doctor using his very efficient, and brilliant looking teeth, I might add."

Shoving his hand into his pocket once more, he pulled out a very large fishing reel; except for the size, it looked exactly like something her Grandpa would use out at the lake. He carefully attached the end of the line that was opposite that of the piece of the cloth to the spool and turned the handle a bit, ensuring a solid anchor.

"Let's catch us a Rose Tyler, shall we?" He nodded to the leather-clad Doctor and braced himself.

Donna watched as the other Doctor flipped a switch on the gadget. A blue light turned on, its beam focused on the door beneath it. Almost immediately, a horrific screech filled the room, the jarring sound of metal protesting under great strain. She pressed her hands to her ears to try and mute the sound.

"It's no good," shouted the Doctor nearest the door. "There's not enough power…Hold on!" She saw him reach into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pull out a sonic screwdriver. He fiddled with it for a moment adjusting the settings and then aimed it at the door.

The noise in the small room escalated to a level that Donna felt sure would cause her eardrums to burst.

"Doctor!" she tried to shout over the din.

She caught a glimpse of something moving from the corner of her eye. Returning her attention to the door she could see the metal actually undulating like waves upon a beach shore.

"Quantum temporal waves at eighty percent and rising!" the Doctor nearest the door shouted. "Eighty-five, ninety-five, one hundred!"

As his last word shot out of his mouth, the noise in the room immediately ceased. Donna cautiously removed her hands. Her ears continued to ring from the onslaught.

The door had ceased to gyrate; now there was a bright golden glow beneath the dome of the machine. It was a sparkling lustrous sort of glow that Donna had seen before.

"Quantum temporal and Epsilon waves have stabilized. Homing beacon is functioning within established parameters."

"Brilliant!" said her traveling companion. "Let's cast our line."

The blue-eyed Doctor crossed to where the skein of Tapestry thread turned fishing line lay at her traveling companion's feet. He snatched up the end of the line on which the singed piece of cloth was tied. Gently, he threaded the cloth through the hole in the middle of the machine.

At first, nothing happened. Considering the great deal of noise and violent movement that had preceded this moment, Donna thought that standing here with nothing happening was more than a little anti-climatic.

Donna opened her mouth to voice the sentiment. When she saw that the line was slowly starting to move she snapped her mouth shut.

The blue-eyed Doctor stood by the door, slowly feeding the line into the golden portal. Her traveling companion continued to stand braced, but she could see his attention was riveted by the movement of the thread.

The two Doctors fed as much line into their 'fishing hole' as it would take. Once the movement stopped, the brown-eyed Doctor reeled in the slack.

Donna waited for something else to happen, but nothing else did. One Doctor held the fishing reel while the other stood by the door and took continuous measurements with his sonic screwdriver.

"Well," she demanded. "What happens now?"

Her traveling companion adjusted the line and clucked his tongue at her. "Now we wait for our fish to bite."

Donna rolled her eyes. She suspected that if Rose knew she was being compared to a fish, she would be none too pleased. "Please tell me that when you catch her you won't hang her upside down by her feet and pose for some stupid picture. If she didn't smack you for that, I certainly would."

* * *

The Golden Mother was more than a little perplexed.

When she had spoken the name of the Doctor, the Universe had figuratively and literally bent itself in unnatural ways to comply. She had visited the Doctor across space and time to deliver her message. He was short and tall, bland and colorful, taciturn and loquacious. She had seen suspenders and operatic cloaks; long scarves and decorative vegetables, question marks and ascots, yet none of these Doctors had pointed her in the right direction.

She gazed across the vastness of space and time, looking for that one tiny thing that was out of place in the Universe she had rewoven, and saw nothing. There were no neon arrows pointing her in a specific direction, no signs saying 'This Way', no trail of breadcrumbs, no way to return.

And yet, her companions were insistent. They sang to her of patience and the inconsequential nature of time.

And so the Golden Mother waited.

Her companions noticed it before she did. Purposefully, they yanked her in one direction, and she acquiesced to their will. Faster and faster they traveled, never deviating from the chosen course.

When she came upon a familiar scrap of cloth attached to a line floating in the middle of nothing, the Golden Mother stretched forth her hand. Firmly clasping the stained ascot, she pulled.

* * *

"Did the line just twitch?" asked Donna, pointing at the thread turned fishing line.

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Donna," her traveling companion replied. "If there had been movement, I would have noticed and –"

The line snapped taut. The force was so sudden and strong that it pulled the Doctor forward several steps.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I think I've got something! It feels like a –"

"If you finish that sentence with the words "big one", I'm telling Rose that you called her fat."

"No, no! I would never – That is to say that Rose is definitely not fat, and that was not what I was about to say, Donna. How about instead of criticizing, you give me some help here?"

His trainers squeaked across the tile as he struggled to get a grip on the smooth surface, and Donna wondered who was reeling in whom.

"Ok, ok," she muttered. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Coming up behind him, she anchored her arms around his waist and pulled backwards.

"Pull!" he shouted.

"I am pulling!" she shouted back. "We wouldn't have this problem if you weren't built like a pencil!"

"Now is not the time to insult my manly physique, Donna." He yanked back on the reel and spooled up the slack only to be pulled forward another step.

"Weaklings," muttered the blue-eyed Doctor from his position at the door. "Epsilon wave still holding steady."

Donna felt as though they were stuck in the middle of a galactic tug-of-war, and their team was losing.

"This isn't working!" she said. "We need –"

She felt feathers embracing her on either side, talons lightly pricking at the skin on her stomach, and suddenly they were moving in the right direction again.

"That's it, Zaizan!" exclaimed the Doctor. "We've got her now." He furiously worked the reel, pulling in the slack as fast as he could turn the spool.

Step by slow step they continued to gain ground. Donna's muscles ached with the effort, but she did not dare let go for fear that if she did, the Doctor would go crashing into the wall, or worse, be pulled through the portal.

An additional discomfort was Zaizan's grip. She didn't complain, but his talons were sharp as they pressed into her skin, and she felt sure she was bleeding. His wings were incredibly strong; the hard muscles pressed into her sides as he helped her pull, but she knew he was being as gentle as possible.

Just when she thought she couldn't pull any longer, the room was suddenly suffused with a soft golden light. Peering past the Doctor, she saw that the entire metal door pulsed with a golden brilliance.

The clamps holding the device to the metal no longer had anything to cling to and the machine dropped to the floor with a loud clang. The blue-eyed Doctor hastily put away his sonic screwdriver and stood at the ready.

"Come on now!" he shouted. "We are almost there! Put your backs into it!"

Donna merely grunted in reply and redoubled her efforts.

When she risked another glance, a small group of golden particles hovered in front of the door. Slowly they coalesced and formed a human looking hand. The hand tightly clutched that stained piece of cloth. The Doctor nearest the door reached forward, grabbed the hand and pulled.

Her traveling companion dropped the reel to the ground and rushed forward to help. Inch by precious inch, golden particles were extricated from the portal; slowly those particles coalesced into a new body. Soon Donna could see an arm, a shoulder, part of a leg.

When the other arm emerged from the glowing doorway, the hand was wrapped loosely around a familiar set of shears. The Doctor took the arm and tossed it over his shoulder, his hands reaching for the shoulder. The shears dropped out of Rose's hand and clattered to the floor, forgotten.

It was when the chest came free that Donna realized that though Rose had entered the portal fully dressed, she was emerging from it with a distinct lack of clothes.

"Donna!" said the brown-eyed Doctor. "Don't look!"

"Me?" she replied. "You should be the one to keep your eyes averted, you dirty old space alien. I've at least got all the same parts."

"No!" he shouted. "The Hearts –"

The last bit of Rose that emerged was her left foot. As soon as she was completely reformed, the Hearts of the two TARDISes exploded out of her eyes, nose, and mouth in a brilliant purple pyrotechnic display.

Donna remembered the storm clouds of energy from before and hurriedly threw her arm over her eyes. She felt a crackling breeze across her face as the energy rushed past. She did not remove her arm until she heard the echo of two TARDIS doors slamming shut.

"She's not breathing," said the younger Doctor.

"No, no, no, no," muttered the Doctor. "She can't leave. I won't allow it."

Together, the two Doctors lowered the newly reborn Rose to the floor. The older Doctor rummaged in his pocket and withdrew a stethoscope. He hurriedly shoved in the earpieces and placed the disk over her heart.

"No heartbeat," he said.

"Right," said the blue-eyed Doctor. He quickly positioned himself at her head and began administering breaths.

In synch with his counterpart, the Doctor began chest compressions.

"Donna!" he yelled in between counts, "Left suit pocket. Sonic screwdriver. Put it on setting 448."

Donna rushed to comply. She rummaged in his pocket trying hard not to interfere with the two giving CPR. Her hand closed around the instrument, and she pulled it out quickly, nearly dropping it in her haste to move the dials to the indicated setting.

"Done," she said.

"OK. Reach into the right pocket and pull out a towel. Rub as much of this gunk off her as you can. Start with her chest."

"Gunk?"

It was then that she noticed the faint sheen on Rose's skin; it glimmered in the rapidly fading glow from the door. She followed instructions, though, and soon had in her hands a small towel with yellow ducks all over it. Not taking the time to comment on his taste in towel décor, she vigorously set about wiping Rose down.

The gunk, for lack of a better word, covered every inch of Rose's body and was thicker than water. In truth, if Donna were pressed to characterize the texture of the slime, she'd have to say it reminded her of snot.

Her face scrunched in distaste, she finished the task she had been given.

"Done."

"Alright," her traveling companion said. "Stand back."

He applied the sonic screwdriver to Rose's chest and administered a charge. There was a high pitched whine and then Rose's body jerked. Donna had seen enough TV to know that he was using the screwdriver like a set of those electric paddles in hospitals used to restart a heart.

Donna held her breath as she watched the Doctor listen for a heartbeat.

"I've got a beat," he said and looked to his younger self.

The other Doctor had his ear next to Rose's mouth and was watching her chest for the telltale rise and fall that would signify she was breathing on her own. Donna also found herself watching for chest rise.

"Come on, Rose. Breathe," Donna said softly.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Rose took a breath.

The grin that crossed the younger Doctor's face stretched from one enormous ear to the other. "She's breathing."

A matching grin encompassed the brown-eyed Doctor's face. "Brilliant. Let's get her to the TARDIS. I'll carry her."

"You? You've got arms like twigs. You'd drop her. I'll carry her. At least that way she'd make it safely."

"I'll have you know that I've got plenty of strength in these slender, but completely manly, arms. I wouldn't drop her! I would never drop Rose. Besides, we are taking her to my TARDIS, so I should get to carry her."

"Bollocks. Shove over. I'm carrying her."

"Oh. My. Gawd!" exclaimed Donna. "She nearly died and you two are arguing about who gets to carry her? Apparently, you are a space dunce in every body. Well, forget it. Neither of you are touching her. Zaizan?"

She motioned to the bird-man. Zaizan bent over and engulfed Rose in his massive wings, glaring at the bickering Doctors as he did so. Lifting her off the floor, he turned and followed Donna out of the room, leaving two dumbfounded Doctors to trail in his wake.

"Bossy, isn't she?" asked the younger Doctor in a quiet voice designed to not be overheard.

The older Doctor sighed and ran his hands through his already messy hair. The motion coupled with a trace of the substance Rose had been covered with coated his hair and made it stand on end. "You don't know the half of it."


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The Golden Mother awoke slowly, registering sensations one at a time; the hardness of the surface supporting her back, the coolness of the air, the feeling that something nasty was caked in her hair, the tingling of her skin. It was the sound of someone shuffling about the room that caused her to crack open her eyes.

The light was terribly bright and left her blinking for several moments. She turned her head and saw Donna, fidgeting on an uncomfortable stool.

"You're awake!" the red-head blurted, hastily clambering down from the stool. She rushed to Rose's bedside and peered down at her. "How do you feel?"

She thought about this for a moment. "Itchy," she said and sat up. The sheet pooled around her hips, and the cool air breezed across her chest. Realizing she was naked, she snatched up the sheet and wrapped it around her as best she could.

Donna appeared completely unfazed about her nakedness. "I'm not surprised you are itchy," she replied. "We did our best to get as much of that nasty slime off of you, but you'll want a good shower."

Rose nodded, and looked down at her arms. She lightly ran one hand across her skin; small dried flakes of a thin mucous flaked off and floated to the floor.

"Do you -," started Donna uncertainly. "Do you know who you are?"

She cocked her head and thought, her brow furrowed. "I am –"

_- the Bad Wolf, the Polestar –_

She blinked. "I am –"

_- the Golden Mother, the Three-In-One – _

Her mouth turned upwards into a broad smile. "I am Rose Marion Tyler. My mother is Jackie Tyler and we live with my alternate Dad and my little brother. I used to be boring and work in a shop, but then I met an alien with a time machine –" She paused and looked round the room. "Where is the Doctor?"

Relief filled Donna's face. Rose watched as she reached for a steaming kettle placed on a small tray near the bedside. Carefully, Donna poured out an exact measure of liquid into a beaker before replacing the kettle and handing the medicine to Rose.

"He and himself got into trouble with Atropos about the mess they made in the reception hall. The old hag grabbed an ear of each Doctor and told them they'd be stuck here for an eternity if they didn't clean it up." Donna sniggered. "It was something to see."

Rose couldn't help but giggle as she pictured the scene. "The Doctor? Cleaning?"

Donna shared her amusement. "Yeah, with an actual mop no less! He left me strict instructions about what to do when you woke up, so drink up."

Rose swirled the orange liquid around in the glass container. "What is it?"

Donna snorted. "I have no idea. Some kind of alien medicine. All I know is that he said you were not to leave the sick bay till you drank it."

Rose shrugged, tipped her head back and downed the medicine in one gulp. "Blech!" Her mouth screwed up with distaste as she handed the beaker back to Donna.

"You'd think with all that space alien technology he could invent a medicine that didn't taste or smell like sewer water," commented Donna. "Can you stand?"

Rose gingerly pushed herself off the medical bay cot and onto her feet, the tightly clutched sheet trailing behind her. Her legs held her weight as they were designed to do, and she smiled. "I'm fine."

"Good!" said Donna, offering a supporting arm anyway. "Let's get you to your room for a shower and some clothes."

The pair walked slowly down the corridors of the TARDIS, Rose doing her best to avoid tripping over the sheet, and Donna rattling off instructions like a drill sergeant.

"The Doctor said that you shouldn't use really hot water in your shower. Your new skin will be sensitive for several days, and you should be careful."

"New skin?" Rose asked, perplexed.

"Yeah, I don't fully understand it myself. As best I can tell, you came out of the portal with all new parts. Both of them were really excited about it when they saw the results of some tests, but our Doctor says he will explain it all later, and you shouldn't worry about it."

Rose frowned. A memory from what seemed like a lifetime ago flashed before her mind's eye and she ran her tongue over her teeth. "New teeth?"

"New everything," replied Donna with a wink.

Rose choked on a laugh. "I guess it is possible to be a born-again virgin, yeah?"

The two enjoyed a good-natured laugh, and shortly thereafter stood outside the door to Rose's room.

"Here you are," said Donna, a little too brightly. "The Doctor says you will find everything just as you left it.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Donna waved the appreciation to the side. "I'll go tell the space twins that you are awake and then go pack."

Donna turned to leave, but Rose grabbed her arm. "Pack?"

When Donna turned back to face her, Rose could see the sadness lurking just beneath the surface. "Well, I figure that since he's got you back, the two of you won't need a third wheel clogging up the place."

"Hold on." Rose gave Donna's arm a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to leave just because I'm here. I'm not going to kick you out, and neither is the Doctor."

An uncharacteristic look of uncertainty flooded into Donna's face. "You want me to stay?"

"Do you want to stay?"

"Yes. I'm not ready to go home yet," said Donna honestly.

Rose let go of her arm and smiled. "Then stay. You are his friend. I want you to be my friend, too."

The smile was infectious, and soon Donna was grinning from ear to ear. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," she said with a wink. "And as your friend, I'm here to tell you that you really need a shower. You reek."

The two women burst into laughter.

* * *

Rose quickly discovered that Donna had not been lying with regards to her new skin. Turning the water on as hot as she could stand it meant that her shower was lukewarm. It also took three washings to get all the dried goop out of her hair.

When Rose Tyler emerged from the shower she felt considerably refreshed. Curious about her new body, she stood stark in front of the bathroom mirror and inspected every inch of skin. The scar on her right elbow from when she had fallen out of a tree when she was six was completely gone, as were the many pricks on her fingers she had gotten while learning to Weave. Skin which had once been discolored with stretch marks received during growth spurts was now smooth and unmarred.

Her hair was a deep golden blonde color, much different from the shade she usually chose at the drugstore. Rose parted her hair and leaned close to the mirror. Even the roots were the same color, and she couldn't help but be happy at the prospect of a life free from dyeing.

That close to the reflective surface, she could see her eyes. She took a finger and pulled down the lower lid. The irises had changed from brown to the color of honey reflected in sunshine, and Rose marveled at the change.

Finding no further changes, she left the bathroom and pulled on some familiar clothes. Her room was exactly as she remembered it including the dirty pair of jeans thrown casually into an obscure corner. The knowledge that the Doctor had quite literally touched nothing in her room since they had separated left her feeling unsettled. The sight brought a few small tears to her eyes, which she hurriedly brushed away.

She was pulling a t-shirt over head when there was knock at the door.

"Come on in," she said, thinking Donna had brought her a cup of tea.

When no one spoke, she turned to see a familiar form in a leather jacket standing awkwardly near the door.

Without hesitation, Rose ran to him and pulled him into her embrace. "Oh thank goodness," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I thought I had dreamed you."

His arms encircled her and held her tightly. "No. No dream," he said. "But I can't stay."

"I know." Her reply was muffled as she pressed herself closer against him. "When?"

"Soon."

Rose shut her eyes tightly and breathed him in. She tried to commit everything to memory; the feel of his jumper on her cheek, the smell of old leather, the strength in his arms as he held her tight. The tears she had fought only moments before streamed down her cheeks.

"Hey," he said, "stop that."

"Can't help it," she sniffed. "Good-byes are sad."

"It isn't goodbye," he said, and his arms gave her a reflexive squeeze. "I'm still with you. And if you have anything to say about it, I always will be."

She choked on a laugh. "Damn straight."

They shared a moment of silence, enjoying the feel of one another's embrace. When Rose spoke again it was to ask the question that was burning in her mind.

"Will you remember?"

"One day," he replied. "When the time is right, I will remember everything. But even before then, I will always remember one thing."

"What's that?"

He gripped her chin and tilted her face upwards. His burning blue eyes bored into her and Rose shivered. "You, Rose Tyler, saved me, in more ways than you can count. You are the most extraordinary, jeopardy-friendly, _fantastic_ person in the entire universe, and I am glad you want to stay by my side."

She stared at him, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. It would be the last time she would see him, and there was one thing she desperately wanted him to know. "I love you," she blurted.

He smiled at her, a small bittersweet smile. "I know," he said.

He leaned down and kissed her, communicating his emotion through lips and tongue, teeth and touch. And when he pulled away, Rose understood that which he could not say.

The Doctor grinned at her, that broad goofy grin that Rose remembered so well. "Walk me to my TARDIS?"

"You need never ask," she said, clasping his hand in hers. Her skin tingled where their palms met, and their hands fit together with comfortable familiarity. "Run?"

"No," he said, swinging her arm between them as they strolled down the TARDIS corridors. "This time, I think we should walk."

The two took the most convoluted path to the front door they could find. He made jokes about their adventures together that had her laughing; she tried hard not to give too much of their future away.

It was only when he disappeared into his TARDIS that they let go of one another's hand.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The TARDIS dematerialized; tears Rose thought she had banished returned, filling her eyes to the brim. Sighing deeply, she ran a hand across her wet eyes and trudged slowly back to the remaining time machine. She pushed through door, head cast down, and moved up the ramp like a woman bearing a great weight.

"Rose?"

The soft utterance startled her and she jerked. Her second Doctor had finally come out of hiding and stood by the main console. His jacket was unbuttoned; his hands were shoved into his pockets, and his face was the picture of uncertainty.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Rose stared at him dumbfounded.

"He had to go back," he added desperately. "There was absolutely no choice. If there had been a way for us to trade places, I would have done it gladly if it meant you would be happy, but I promise you Rose, there was no possible way to make it work. I know you don't believe me when I say something is impossible, but this –"

A small cry erupted from her throat and she launched herself at him. She crashed into him and hung on tightly, her arms trembling. "Shut up," she said, her voice choked with tears. "I don't wish you were him."

The Doctor returned the embrace and crushed her to him just as fiercely. "Are you sure?" he muttered into her hair.

Rose tilted her head and looked him the eye. "You are the Doctor, no matter what face you wear. I wouldn't trade my time with either of you for anything. I love you – big ears, ascots, great hair, or ridiculously long scarves. None of it matters to me because they are all you."

A genuinely happy smile beamed down at her one split second before she found her mouth occupied with his. This Doctor smelled different, and tasted different from his predecessor, but Rose found the changes equally pleasing.

The Doctor pulled back, grasped her tightly and swung her round in a circle, joyous laughter pouring out of him. "This is brilliant!" he exclaimed. "There are so many things I want to show you, assuming that they are still there after this escapade, and if they aren't, there are so many new things for us to learn, countless adventures ahead! You and me and Donna and –"

He abruptly stopped. "Er, about Donna –"

Rose giggled and waved the words away. "Donna and I have already talked. She's staying."

The Doctor blinked. "And that's OK with you?"

Rose nodded. "Of course. She's your friend, and I have no doubt she will be my friend as well."

He grinned and swooped in for a quick peck. "You are brilliant!"

"I am brilliant, aren't I?" she laughed and hugged him tightly. "And fantastic, too."

Their embrace was suddenly interrupted by a loud scream.

"Wha –" said Rose, turning round quickly trying to pinpoint the source of the disturbance.

"I'd know that scream anywhere," said the Doctor. "Donna!"

The Doctor grabbed Rose's hand in a refreshingly familiar grip and pulled her along behind him. Together, they shot out of the control room, tore down the corridor, and burst into the kitchen. Donna was leaning against the counters, one hand figuratively pushing her heart back into her chest, and the other pointing at the refrigerator.

"Donna," said the Doctor. "What's wrong?"

"There's something in the fridge," Donna stuttered. "It moved!"

"There shouldn't be anything living in there. I haven't collected any live specimens since before you joined me." The Doctor's voice was maddeningly nonchalant.

"I'm telling you that something moved!"

"Alright, alright. Let's just take a look, shall we?"

The Doctor cautiously opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. "Ah, I see," the Doctor commented.

"Nothing to be worried about," he said, pulling the door wide open. "The TARDIS just provided some food for our newest guest."

The light flicked on, and Rose saw a bowl of creepy crawlies that looked terribly familiar. As she watched, something with too many legs crawled over the lip of the bowl and dropped down into the bottom of the fridge next to an apple.

Donna made a small retching nose of disgust.

"Zaizan is here?" Rose asked.

"Indeed, Golden Mother, I am."

The bird-man had approached so silently that his voice in her ear made her jump with surprise.

"Zaizan! Don't sneak up on me."

The Farinzian bowed deeply in remorse. "I will endeavor to avoid such conduct in the future, Golden Mother."

"Um," Rose said intelligently. "Good. Are you hungry? Because we apparently have food for you." She gestured towards the gaping refrigerator.

"That is kind of you, Golden Mother, but I have no need to eat at present."

"Ok then." A thought crossed her mind and she turned towards the Doctor. "Doctor, I know I need to go home for a visit, and Donna will likely want to check on her family too, but can we pop over to Zaizan's island first? I have a promise to keep."

A strange expression crossed the Doctor's face for a fleeting moment, and then it was gone. "Right-o! We must keep our promises." He punctuated the statement by slamming the refrigerator door.

The color drained from Donna's face. "We're about to leave?"

"Of course we are. I don't know about you, Donna, but I think I've had enough of Eternals for, well, an eternity, to be completely honest." He leaned over to Rose and added, "The books I read in school had their abilities right, but their personalities left a lot to be desired."

Donna chuckled, despite her pale complexion. "Yes, I suppose it can be aggravating to meet someone who thinks you've just hit puberty."

"Donna!"

Rose's eyes grew wide and she looked at Donna with unabashed curiosity.

"Don't worry," said Donna with a mischievous wink. "I'll tell you later."

Rose stifled a giggle.

The Doctor cleared his throat loudly. "I've had multiple female companions before on my TARDIS. You, Donna Noble, don't scare me."

Rose and Donna shared a knowing look.

"Anyone remember our trip?" asked the Doctor petulantly. "Farinzians? Floating islands? Bugs in the refrigerator?"

"Oh." said Donna. "Right. We're leaving." She abruptly turned and ran down the corridor.

The others followed more slowly, and when they reached the control room, they found Donna busily strapping herself into one of the seats around the console. "OK," she said bracing herself. "I'm ready."

Donna glanced at Rose who was staring confusedly. "The ride here was exceedingly rough. I'd strap in if I were you."

Rose's eyes widened, and then she too was strapping herself into one of the jump seats.

"Zaizan, are you situated?" the Doctor asked the bird-man as he programmed in the coordinates.

"Do not worry regarding my well-being, Time Lord. I am accustomed to such travel."

"Er, right. OK then, here we go."

The Doctor flipped several switches, the time rotor pumped, the room filled with a purple glow, and everything jerked sideways.

* * *

There was a light knock at the door.

"Rose?"

"Give me a minute," Rose said in between dry heaves. When the spasm passed, she laid the side of her head against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl.

When Donna had said the ride was going to be rough, Rose had taken her at her word and dutifully strapped herself into the jump seat. Rose had been unprepared, however, for the sickening bobs and weaves of the TARDIS. She was certain her stomach was currently lodged somewhere in her chest.

Without preamble, the Doctor opened the door and stepped inside the small bathroom. In one hand he held a tray, upon which were two steaming mugs. He carefully laid the tray on the bathroom counter, picked up a mug and squatted down next to Rose.

"Here," he said, carefully handing her the mug.

"What is it?"

"Mint tea. If you sip it slowly, it should help settle your stomach."

Rose dutifully took a sip. The warm liquid poured comfortingly down her throat and into her stomach. Her entire body gave a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she said softly, taking another sip. "Who is the other mug for?"

"Donna. She's clutching the porcelain bowl down the hall."

Rose grimaced in sympathy. "And Zaizan?"

"Oh, our bird-friend is perfectly fine. At present he is in the kitchen noshing on a delicious meal of creepy crawlies."

Rose grimaced, placed her mug on the tile floor and dry heaved into the toilet.

"Oh. Oh no. I am so sorry." The Doctor rubbed her back. "I didn't think. Look, just don't think about it. Think of something else, something cute. Like kittens and dogs with no noses, or the pink bunnies Relta II."

After a moment, the spasm ceased; Rose picked up the mug and sipped some more of the soothing tea.

"I've never seen dogs with no noses, or pink bunnies," she said.

"No?" The Doctor looked shocked. "Well, we will have to remedy that." He flashed an excited grin.

"I don't think I will be able to eat anything in that fridge, now," she said softly.

"You don't have to worry about that," the Doctor expounded excitedly. "The TARDIS has spawned us an additional refrigerator. I think she felt a bit bad about what happened earlier. Across the front of this new fridge in big letters are the words "For Avian Food Only". And to be sure we get the point, there are pretty wings sketched on the sides. So I should think we won't have any worries about foodstuffs getting mixed up."

Rose's brow furrowed. "Why does he need his own refrigerator if we are taking him home?"

"He's coming with us," the Doctor said, looking at her strangely. "I thought you already knew."

Rose looked at him in confusion. "Coming with us? He can't come with us. He has a daughter to take care of back home. No child should have to grow up without her father if it can be helped."

The Doctor rubbed her back again. "Hey, relax. It will be OK. You settle that stomach of yours, and then come find me. I'll explain things."

The back rub soothed her, she had to admit, and she nodded in agreement. "OK. What are you going to do?"

"Me?" he asked, rising to his feet and grabbing his tray. "I'm going to check on Donna and then I'm going to rip that infernal biochip out of the directional transponder and reset the dimensional stabilizers. My precious time machine needs to glow green again and not this ridiculous purple color."

Rose watched as he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. If purple meant she was going to develop a close personal relationship with the toilet bowl every time they traveled to a new destination, then she fervently agreed.

* * *

Half an hour later Rose felt better. The mint tea had settled her stomach, and she had drained her mug of every drop.

On her way to the control room, she swung by the kitchen ostensibly to drop off her empty mug. Truthfully, however, she wanted to find Zaizan. Regardless of what the Doctor had said, if Rose could talk the bird-man out of leaving his daughter, she would do it.

The Farinzian was nowhere in sight when Rose entered the kitchen. She did notice that the Doctor had not been exaggerating when he described the second refrigerator.

If anything, the TARDIS had gone overboard to make it distinctive. Not only were there large wings painted on the side, but the entire appliance was colored a bright yellow. It reminded Rose of the color seen in hazardous waste signs at home.

At that moment, Rose's stomach rumbled. The tea had soothed her new stomach to the point where it had realized that there was absolutely nothing in it but tea, and it protested this state of affairs quite loudly.

Rose put a hand over the noisy organ and eyeballed both refrigerators.

"Nope," she said to herself. "Can't do it."

She turned her back on the appliances and rummaged through the cabinets instead, hoping to locate something gentle and bug-free to munch on. Her eager hands grabbed a sleeve of water biscuits. She tore open the package, and began to eat the crackers slowly.

When convinced her stomach was not going to reject her offering, she and the package of biscuits made their way to the control room.

She found the Doctor underneath the main console, his long legs the only parts of him that were visible.

"Doctor?"

"Rose? Give me a minute. I've just got to attach this wire to this, and…"

There was a spark, something that sounded suspiciously like a curse, and the glow of the time rotor changed from purple back into the greenish tint Rose was familiar with.

"You did it," she said.

"Of course I did," he replied, climbing out from beneath the jungle of wires and contraptions. "There was never any doubt."

Rose grinned. "Have you seen Zaizan?"

"Yes," he said, straightening first his jacket and then his tie. "He and Donna left two minutes ago."

"Left?"

"Zaizan said he was going to visit with his family and help with some party arrangements. He took Donna with him to introduce her round."

"There's going to be a party?"

"Oh yes," the Doctor said with a smile. "In honor of the Golden Mother and an apocalypse safely averted, I believe."

Rose's eyes widened even as a flush of pleasure colored her cheeks. "A party? For me? That's nice, but not –" She stopped as she remembered the real question she wanted answered. "But Doctor, about Zaizan –"

"It is good that you are eating," the Doctor interrupted. "New stomachs can be a bit tricky, and I know this from experience. It is best to start with bland foods and slowly add things back into your diet. I don't recommend starting with a bowl of Elusiart chili. That was a distinctly unpleasant experience." His mouth screwed up in a grimace for a moment.

"You may find that your tastes have changed as well," he added with a grin. "Who knows? You might even find that you've developed a liking for vegemite and hate chocolate."

Rose scoffed. "Not bloody likely."

She popped another cracker in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"What's this about all new parts, then?" she asked.

Suddenly, Rose found herself pulled into the Doctor's embrace. His arms trembled as he held her.

"When you stepped through that portal, Rose," he said seriously, "every atom of your body was instantaneously converted to pure energy and time. You were gone."

The deepness of his voice caused Rose to shiver and she clung to him. The package of water biscuits fell to the grate, forgotten. "I'm here now," she reassured him.

"That's because when we pulled you back out, the Heart of the TARDIS forced that energy to reform into matter, essentially building you an entirely new body."

"So," Rose said slowly, "it's a bit like regeneration, yeah?"

"Yes," he replied, "only – "

The Doctor pulled back and extended his hand. She grasped it automatically. "Come on and I'll show you."

He led her through the twisted corridors of the time ship into the infirmary. He crossed the threshold and hurried to a computer along the far wall. He dropped her hand and his long fingers began punching keys. An image appeared on the display screen, its green lines rotating slowly.

"This," he said pointing at the screen, "is a picture of your DNA when you first joined me. That double helix design is what makes humans human."

Rose nodded. "I remember seeing pictures of that from biology class."

The Doctor nodded approval. "Right." He punched a few keys. "Now this is a picture of my DNA."

Rose stared at the image. "It looks sorta like mine, only with an extra strand."

"It's called a triple-helix," he replied, "and gives me a lot of cool things humans don't have like a respiratory bypass system, the ability to regenerate, and two hearts."

She cocked her head. "Are you saying that's what my DNA looks like now? That I'm like you?" She could not disguise the excitement in her voice.

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. "No." His fingers once again flew across the keyboard and a new image displayed on the small screen. "After we got you back, we ran some tests. This is what your DNA looks like now."

Once, Rose Tyler had been human and possessed the same double helix design that was unique to her species. What now twirled in electric green before her looked as if that basic design had been replicated twice. The Doctor might have three strands to his genetic make-up, but Rose now had four.

She wasn't human anymore.

The thought hit Rose like a lightning strike; her eyes widened, her heart thundered in her chest, and her breaths came in quick panting gasps. "What does this mean?" she asked panicked. "If I'm not human, what am I?"

He grabbed her shoulders and leaned down to look her directly in the eyes. "Rose, look at me." When she did not respond immediately, he shook her gently. "Look at me, Rose."

She obediently raised her eyes to his. "Doctor, what am I?"

"You are Rose Marion Tyler. That has not, nor will it change. Do you understand?"

Rose nodded uncertainly.

"Believe it, Rose. Your DNA does not determine who you are. You are still Rose Tyler, brilliant savior of the entire universe. Your mother is still Jackie Tyler of the Terrifying Slap. OK?"

She nodded again, this time with more conviction.

He pulled her into a tight hug. "We will figure the rest of it out, together. I promise."

Rose allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of being in his arms as she contemplated the knowledge she had just been given. One question rose to the forefront of her mind. "Will I -," she started. "Will I live as long as you?"

He froze; Rose could feel the tension in his arms as they held her, and she could hear his hearts speed up. He was quiet for several moments. He sighed deeply and Rose steeled herself for the worst.

"I haven't had time to do a great many tests, yet. To be honest, I have never seen a DNA structure quite like this one, but I think it is safe to say your lifespan has been greatly extended." His hand found her chin and tilted her face upwards. "By how much, I don't know. But it is possible you could outlive me."

Rose paled and started to tremble.

The Doctor rushed to reassure her. "You will never be alone, Rose. You can stay with me for as long as you want, and we can figure this out together."

Rose's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you just said –"

The Doctor released her and ran his hands through his hair. "I know what I said, and that is precisely why you need to understand about Zaizan."

"Zaizan? What's he got to do with any this?"

The Doctor sighed. "Did he say anything to you, a phrase often repeated, perhaps?"

Rose fidgeted. "Well, yeah. He would say stuff about it being his now and future honor to serve me or something."

The Doctor nodded. "Was he the only one to say that to you?"

"Well, no, now that you mention it. What does it mean?"

He reached for her once again and pulled her back into his embrace. "It wasn't just some odd turn of phrase used by his people, Rose. It was a pledge, an oath. His people are sworn to protect you. Do you understand?"

"Not really, no."

"You will always have a Farinzian companion from now until the end of your life. That is why Zaizan is going with us."

"But his daughter, Acaxia –" Rose protested.

"Did Acaxia refer to Zaizan as her father or her brood-father?" the Doctor interrupted.

Rose's eyes crinkled with thought. "Her brood-father," she replied after a moment.

The Doctor nodded. "Farinzians do not detail family structure the way humans do, Rose. They do not have cousins or aunts and uncles. Zaizan's brother is considered by Acaxia to be just as much her father as Zaizan."

"She has more than one father?" asked Rose uncertainly.

"And likely more than one mother. You do not need to worry about Acaxia. She will be well cared for, and more than likely, will become your companion one day."

Rose sighed and rubbed her temples. "Doctor, this is a lot."

"I know," he said sympathetically. "I'm here," he added grasping her hand. "What say we go check out this party, hmmm? Some festivities might be just the ticket to help clear your head."

"OK," Rose replied, squeezing his hand. "But I'm not eating any bugs."


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Rose stepped out of the TARDIS and found herself with an armful of enthusiastic feathers.

"Rose! You kept your promise!" screeched Acaxia. "I knew you could do it! I knew it!" Acaxia pressed herself as close to Rose as possible.

"I missed you, too, Acaxia," Rose said with a chuckle.

"Rose, you were right. The TARDIS is such a pretty blue. I hugged her as soon as she appeared, and she sang to me." Acaxia turned her beak up towards Rose. "Does she sing to you, too?"

Rose smiled and glanced over her shoulder at the stalwart blue police box. "Yeah, she sings to me all the time."

"Acaxia's not kidding," said Donna, approaching with Zaizan at her side. "She's been attached to the TARDIS like a barnacle since we arrived. Couldn't pry her off with a crowbar."

Zaizan bobbed his head in agreement. "Acaxia, it is rude to smother the Golden Mother," he added in his calm unruffled tones.

Rose raised a hand in reassurance. "It's alright Zaizan. I can still breathe."

"So this is the Acaxia I've heard so much about," said the Doctor. "I'm the Doctor and I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Acaxia turned her head to stare at him from her place within Rose's arms. "The Doctor?" she asked, cocking her head curiously.

"Yep," he said smugly, bouncing on his toes.

"Oh," she said. "The TARDIS says you are her pilot."

Rose choked as the Doctor deflated. "Pilot? I'm much more than her pilot!" he protested.

"If she chose you as the driver," quipped Donna, "how slim were the pickings?"

"Oi!"

"Doctor," interrupted Zaizan, "may I show Acaxia the interior of the ship?"

"Ohhh," breathed Acaxia, "can I, Rose? Will the TARDIS mind?"

"She won't mind in the slightest," said Rose with a smile.

Zaizan waited until he got the nod of approval from the Doctor, and then escorted his daughter into the time ship amid happy chirps and the frenzied flutter of wings.

The Doctor eyed Rose. "Why is she asking you? She's my ship," he mumbled.

"Yes, Doctor. I know." She placated him by grasping his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"So, Donna, what –"

A loud screech interrupted Rose. It was a jubilant noise and erupted from none other than Zaizin. The shout of joy and triumph was picked up and echoed by many Farinzian throats until the cry turned into a roar that cascaded across the island.

And then, as suddenly as the sound had started, it ceased; bird-people across the land bowed low before the Golden Mother.

After several moments, Zaizin rose, the emblem of his office blazing in the bright sunshine. "We pay our respects to the Golden Mother. It is our now and future honor to serve you."

One by one, each Farinzian uttered the oath, young and old, male and female; the pledge that bound their fates to Rose was said with a joyful solemnity.

Rose cast an unsure glance at the Doctor who nodded. "Thank you," she said.

Zaizin came forward, something glittering in his hands. With another deep bow he presented the item to Rose. "Should the Golden Mother ever have need, she will call."

Rose tentatively reached forward and grasped the item. It was a necklace; a fine golden chain from which dangled the same symbol she had seen both Zaizin and Zaizan wearing, two Epsilons back to back centered in a sunburst.

Her fingers trembled as she wrestled with the clasp.

"Here," said the Doctor, taking the chain from her, "allow me."

As the Doctor put the necklace on her, the charm took its place on her breastbone next to a worn Yale key. Once the clasp was secure, the necklace glowed brightly for a moment before fading, and Rose gasped in surprise. Her fingers caressed the charm.

"It's warm," she said in wonderment.

"Should you have need, you need only speak, Golden Mother. It will always bring us to your aid."

"I understand," Rose said softly. "Thank you."

"The oath has been given and accepted," crowed Zaizin his proclamation seeming to carry on the wind over the entirety of the island. "Let us celebrate the Ascension of the Golden Mother!"

A great cacophony erupted from over a thousand throats and a party like none Rose had ever attended began. There were aerial acrobatics from the greatest fliers, plays that retold the legend of the Golden Mother (Acaxia got the starring role and didn't she look adorable wearing a blonde wig), and more sweets and drinks than an army could consume (some were even bug-free). As the sun dipped low and night began to fall there were fireworks in a riot of colors, music on instruments Rose had never seen or heard before, and dance steps so unusual that even the Doctor tried to learn them.

The party lasted all night; when the sky began to lighten and Donna admitted she was more than a little drunk, Rose promised Acaxia that they would visit often and soon, silencing any protests from the Doctor with a look. With hugs all around and a great many well wishes the tired group returned to the TARDIS.

"Where to next?" piped the Doctor with unnecessary energy and, at least in Donna's opinion, volume.

Rose stood by the railing and was overtaken by a jaw-cracking yawn. "Mum's," she muttered.

Donna slouched in a seat near the console. Her response was a groan, followed by a loud snort.

The Doctor paled. "Don't you want to get some rest first? A bit of shut-eye? Some time in the land of Nod?"

Rose frowned. "We need to go see my Mum and Pete and let them know I'm alright."

"Of course we do," the Doctor reassured. "But wouldn't it be better to see her when you are all rested and in tip top shape?"

Donna giggled; the laugh ended on another snort.

"And Donna isn't blind drunk?" he added hopefully.

Rose yawned again. "But Mum will be worried."

"No she won't! Time-machine, remember? We will arrive right on schedule with her none the wiser that we took some time for some much needed rest. And she will see you all hale and healthy and won't feel the need to take any form of violent action against my person."

Rose smirked. "Still afraid of my Mum, aren't you?"

"It isn't fear," sniffed the Doctor, "it's a healthy sense of self-preservation. If I took you back in this state not only would Jackie want to use my face as a punching bag, Donna's Mum would want to string me up by my toenails."

"Alright, alright," said Rose, laughing. "We can get some rest first. But you better be spot on with the timing of our arrival."

The Doctor beamed a smile. "I have a feeling that the TARDIS will bend over backwards to accommodate any wish of yours, Rose."

Zaizan ruffled his feathers and laid a hand on Donna's shoulder. "Come Noble Donna, I will escort you to your chamber."

"Wha-?" spluttered Donna. "Oh, Zaizan. Thanks."

She accepted the hand up and the two walked towards the hall. Donna leaned heavily against the bird-man. "Mmmm," she murmured, "soft. Why's all the good ones covered in feathers?"

Zaizan made no reply, but Rose felt sure he was smiling as they left the room.

Once they were gone, Rose turned to the Doctor, crossed her arms and stared.

"What?" asked the Doctor.

"Well come on then."

"What? Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Yeah. So come on."

Understanding dawned and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he fidgeted. "Oh, well you see, Rose, I wasn't exactly planning on sleeping right now. You know how the TARDIS always needs repairs these days, and with all of my companions getting a good snooze it seemed the perfect time to get a little tinkering in and all."

It took a moment for Rose's tired brain to make sense of the rapid torrent of words he spewed. When she did, she shrugged, walked to the larger of the seats surrounding the console and lay down as best she could.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice pitched in a higher octave than usual.

"Sleeping, if you will hush," she replied. To emphasize her point, she closed her eyes.

"You can't sleep there," he protested.

"Why not?"

"You'll end up with a crick in your neck for one. And for another having you here would…well, it would…"

"Distract you?"

"Yes!" said the Doctor. "I'm so glad we've come to this understanding."

Rose pushed herself upright and leveled a glare at the Doctor. "I've been without you for too long, Doctor. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"But…, but that's…" he spluttered. After a moment that was shorter than true determined resistance would have dictated, he sighed and extended his hand.

She gave a victorious smile and grasped his hand tightly. "Knew you'd see it my way," she quipped, her tongue poking out from between teeth. She pulled the Doctor behind her all the way to her room; she didn't have to pull very hard.

It took them several minutes to toss off shoes and jackets, clamber onto the pink bed and find a comfortable position. After some tossing to and fro, Rose rested on her side, the Doctor behind her; his long arms held her close.

As her breathing slowed and sleep approached, Rose realized that she had something very important to tell him.

"Doctor?" she murmured sleepily.

"Hmm?"

"I'm very glad to be home."

The Doctor said nothing; instead, he sighed and pulled her closer. And that told Rose all she needed to know.

* * *

Rose awoke to the niggling feeling that something was missing. She wrinkled her nose and burrowed deeper into the covers. When the persistent thought refused to go away and let her sleep, she sighed.

"Doctor?" she murmured. Rose reached behind her and patted around on the bed searching for a Doctor-like lump. Her fingers touched only sheets and blankets.

"Doctor?" she asked again, rolling over onto her back.

The Doctor was nowhere to be seen, but in his place lying on his pillow was a flower. Rose sat up, rubbed her bleary eyes and reached for the strange blossom. The shape closely resembled an Earth tulip, but the petals were a sparkling gold; her hand tingled when she touched it, and the fragrance was heady and unlike anything she had ever smelled before.

"Like it?" asked the Doctor.

He stood in the doorway of Rose's bedroom carrying a breakfast tray that bore enough edibles for two. He edged his way into the room and shut the door behind him with his toe.

"Yeah," said Rose, "it's beautiful. What is it?"

"I have no idea!" he said gaily, putting the tray on the bed. "It is a new species that is now growing in the TARDIS gardens. She made sure I found it when I got up." He flashed a bright smile and snagged a piece of toast. "I think we should call it a time rose."

Rose chuckled and put the flower aside to tuck into a fried egg. In between mouthfuls she said, "Breakfast in bed? What did I do to deserve this?"

He grinned and stretched out on the bed beside her. "Oh, I don't know. Saving the universe? Finding a way back? How about just being you?"

Rose felt a blush creep up her neck and flood into her cheeks. She smiled shyly. "What about Zaizan and Donna?"

"Donna is chugging down my patented hangover cure while Zaizan is enjoying a tasty bowl of creepy crawlies in milk."

"Milk?" Rose shuddered.

"Yep," the Doctor replied. "He said something about it adding a creamy texture –"

Rose put her hand over his mouth. "Yeah, that's enough. Don't need anymore details, thanks."

She felt his lips turn upward beneath her hand before she pulled back and returned to her breakfast. The two ate in companionable silence for several minutes before the Doctor felt the need to interrupt.

"The odd thing about that flower," he started with studied nonchalance, "is that it isn't the only new thing we've discovered." He absently brushed a crumb from his suit jacket. "The TARDIS has been remapping her star charts and not only is nothing where we last left it, which was to be expected, but worlds that were dead are now wonderfully alive, and some vast reaches of empty space are now populated, which was not."

Rose grabbed a glass of juice and raised it to her lips. The Doctor had a point to make, she was sure, but she didn't know if he was about to praise her or scold her. After a few sips of juice she hunched over a piece of toast.

"Even more interesting," he added casually, "is the fact that the Earth seems to have acquired a new moon."

The words hung heavy in the air, a question unasked. Involuntarily, Rose fisted her hands, crushing the remains of her toast. Memories, fuzzy and tinged in gold flowed through her mind like water. There was something important she needed to remember; she could see it, just over the horizon and she strained to reach it.

"What have you done, Rose?" The question was spoken, soft and gentle and full of heartbreak.

Rose put the mangled toast on a plate, squared her shoulders, and raised her head to look him in the eye, defiantly.

"What had to be done," she replied.

Rose didn't know what he saw in her face as they stared at each other for several moments, but it was the Doctor who broke the silence first. He nodded to himself and then gave her a brittle smile.

"Well, now that you've noshed, I'll just go plug in the coordinates that will take us to see Jackie, shall I? With a bit of luck and maybe some gum, we might be able to land in the right place." He cleared away breakfast and picked up the tray before a look of abject horror crossed his face. "You don't think she'll try to kiss me again, do you?"

Rose accepted his attempt at lightening the mood, more for her own sake than his. She tucked her tongue into the corner of her mouth and flashed him a grin. "Probably. She hasn't seen you in over a year."

The Doctor's mouth twisted in disgust. "Now that's just disgusting, Rose Tyler."

She winked at him saucily as he left the room. "I promise, Doctor, that I will give you two kisses for every one that my Mum gives you."

She was satisfied to see a blush color his cheeks, but was even more delighted with his response.

"I just might hold you to that, Rose."


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Thirty minutes later, a freshly scrubbed and refreshed Rose entered the control room just as the time ship landed with a rattle and a thump. Donna was seated in a jump seat and looked a little worse for wear while Zaizan leaned along the far wall, his wings tucked in close.

Remembering what the Doctor had said earlier, Rose couldn't help but ask a question. "Are we in the right spot?"

The answer to that question came in the form of a loud pounding on the door. "Doctor!" shouted Jackie Tyler. "Open this door! You give me my daughter!"

The Doctor turned to Rose and gestured at the door. "I think it's for you."

Rose rolled her eyes at him and bounded to the door. She threw it open and engulfed her Mum in a hug. "Mum," she said, "I'm alright. I'm here."

Jackie squeezed her daughter tightly before pulling back. "Oh Rose, I'm so glad you're home. You would not believe the things that have been going on! Where is himself?"

"I'm right here, Jackie," said the Doctor, following Rose out of the TARDIS.

"Oh you!" said Jackie before engulfing the Doctor in a hug.

The Doctor awkwardly returned the embrace before moving away from the doorway so first Donna, and then Zaizan could disembark.

"Mum," said Rose, "this is Donna Noble. She's traveling with us."

"Uh huh," said Jackie, her attention fixed solely on the large bird-man standing in her backyard. "A pleasure I'm sure."

"Yeah," muttered Donna. "Don't mind me. Let's all just stare at the alien, shall we?"

The Doctor elbowed Donna in the ribs.

"And this is Zaizan.," Rose said.

"Blimey!" said Jackie, continuing to eye Zaizan up and down. "He's so –," she fumbled for a word, "…tall. Is he friendly?"

"Yeah, Mum. He's my friend, and he can understand you."

Jackie started, realizing she was being rude. She quickly nodded at Zaizan, and said, "Nice to meet you."

Zaizan extended his wings and bowed low. "It is an honor to meet She Who Bore the Golden Mother."

"Wha-?"

"He means me, Mum. He is saying he is pleased to meet you."

"Oh!" said Jackie with a saucy smile. "Such a high class speaker you are. Well, come on then. Let's go up to the house and have a cuppa." She paused as a thought crossed her mind. "Zaizan, do you drink tea? If you don't, I can look for something else in the cupboard –"

"Jackie Tyler need not worry about me. I do not require sustenance at this time, but if I did, I would drink your tea with humble gratefulness."

Jackie smiled flirtatiously. "What a honeyed tongue you have."

"You don't know the half of it," piped in Donna as she maneuvered herself between Zaizan and Jackie.

Jackie smiled tightly at Donna before turning on her heel and leading the way to the house. "I called your Father as soon as I heard the sound of the Doctor's time boat. He's on his way. He'll want to talk to you about all the craziness we've been having lately."

"What craziness would that be, Jackie?" asked the Doctor.

She paused and looked at him uncertainly. "I think it best to let you talk to Pete about that. He'll be here soon enough." She started walking once again and escorted them into the mansion. Quick steps led them through the living room, the formal dining room, and into the kitchen. "In the meantime," she continued putting on the kettle, "we will sit down for a cup of tea and nice visit."

"Mum," Rose interrupted, "can we give Donna a ride to her house? She wants to check in on her family, too."

Jackie turned to the red-head, and this time the smile was genuine. "Of course we can. I'll send you with a driver. I'm sure that the Doctor doesn't take you home to visit near often enough."

"Thank you," said Donna.

"Do you need the driver to stay? To come back? Or…"

The Doctor extended his hand to Donna. "Donna, give me your phone."

"What for?"

Rose grinned and dug into her pocket for her phone. She handed it over with a smile. "Come on, then. Make it a super phone."

The Doctor returned the grin, pulled out the sonic screwdriver and immediately set to work.

"Super phone?" asked Donna, pulling her phone out of her pocket with more reluctance than Rose had shown.

"Yep," said the Doctor. "Can call anywhere in the universe, and…," his long fingers flew over the keypad of Rose's phone, "…you can call the TARDIS directly." He handed the phone back to Rose and grabbed Donna's. "You just call us when you are ready to be picked up and we will be in your living room before you can say 'Milt likes fishing."

Donna retrieved her upgraded phone and slipped it into her pocket. "Why didn't you do this for me earlier?" she demanded.

Jackie snorted. "Likely he forgot. Supposed to be a genius and all, but I've never seen any indication."

"Oi!"

Donna laughed feeling a new camaraderie with Rose's mother. "Yeah, a real space dunce, he is."

The tea was poured and the group round the table enjoyed the jovial conversation; there was plenty of ribbing at the Doctor's expense, and Jackie made Rose promise to bring her some of that alien hair dye that completely obliterated roots, a request Rose let stand without further comment. When the chauffeur arrived, Donna rose to go with him. She paused in the doorway and looked back at the Doctor.

"You will pick me up when I call?" she asked uncertainly. "It took me a long time to catch up with you last time."

Surprisingly, it was Rose who answered. "We will come when you call."

"Yes," added the Doctor. "We will be there."

Donna nodded. "You'd better." And then she was gone.

A silence descended around the table for several moments, Jackie slowly sipping her tea and eyeing the Doctor with suspicion. She replaced her cup in the saucer and turned her gaze on her daughter. "I suppose this means you plan to go with him."

Rose fidgeted in her seat. "Yes, Mum. I'm staying with the Doctor."

Jackie sighed. "Can't say as I'm surprised. I always expected you'd swan off with him if he ever appeared on our doorstep again. Just promise me you'll call…and visit-" She stopped in mid-sentence. "You can visit? This isn't an all or nothing, never see my daughter again farewell?

"No, Jackie," the Doctor rushed to reassure, "the path is open and we should be able to visit like we did before."

"Hopefully more than you did before," she quipped. "It's shameful to leave a mother behind to worry. Promise me, Rose, that you'll visit…and be safe…and don't eat anything poisonous…and make sure you wear clean underwear-"

"I've got it," said Rose, holding up a hand to stem the tide of commands before they became even more embarrassing. "I promise."

"I'll keep her safe, Jackie," said the Doctor.

Jackie snorted clearly indicating what she thought of the Doctor's promises. "I know you do your best, Doctor, but danger sticks to you glue."

"Rose Tyler is under my protection," offered Zaizan.

She scrutinized the bird-man carefully, judging the power in his limbs and the sincerity of his claim. After a long moment, she nodded. "You be sure that one," she pointed to the Doctor, "brings her home for a visit every now and again."

Zaizan bowed his head in a silent promise.

Jackie picked up her teacup. "I think I like this new friend of yours, Rose."

* * *

"Can either of you tell me what this is?" asked Pete Tyler. He gestured toward the spread of satellite photographs spread out on the coffee table between them.

The Doctor reached into his jacket and pulled out his glasses and affixed them on his nose. He reached out, snagged the nearest photograph and peered at it intently.

The photographs clearly displayed the new moon. The bright orange surface was smooth and unmarked by the craters seen so prominently on the first moon clearly demonstrating its youth. Closer inspection revealed a long series of evenly spaced unidentified objects. Stretching for miles, the objects were clumped into what almost looked like an aerial view of cultivated English farmland.

"How long has this been in orbit?" asked the Doctor.

Pete rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back. "The images came in today," he replied. "Headquarters woke me up at the ungodly hour of 2 AM."

Rose had to admit Pete looked tired. His suit was rumpled, his chin was unshaven, and dark circles lay heavy beneath his eyes.

"Is this the only anomaly?" inquired the Doctor.

"No."

An expectant pause filled the room as both Rose and the Doctor waited for Pete to continue.

"I don't really know how to explain it," Pete said with a sigh. "It sounds absolutely crazy, and if it had just happened to me, I would've checked myself into the psych ward. But it's not just me. It's everyone."

Pete leaned forward and propped his arms on his knees. "Once the doppelgangers disappeared, we started to remember things." He paused. "Rose," he said, staring at her intently, "I know that I am not your real father, at least not in the biological sense. I understand and accept it, and over time we've worked out a relationship, you and I." He paused. "Haven't we?"

"Of course we have," Rose said emphatically. "You're my Dad."

Pete flashed Rose a quick smile, and then stood to pace restlessly around the room. "I know all this in my head. Logically it makes sense. And yet," he looked at Rose and she noticed there were tears forming in his eyes, "I remember perfectly the day you were born."

Rose gasped and felt tears forming in her own eyes.

"Can you believe it?" Pete continued. "I was late getting to the hospital, and Jackie was absolutely furious. But I made it in time, and I held your Mother's hand as she gave birth to you. I held you in my arms and knew that you were the greatest gift I had ever been given."

Rose could not contain herself; she jumped to her feet and engulfed her Dad in a tight embrace. "Oh Dad," she said, "I'm so sorry."

Pete hugged her for a moment and then pulled back to stare questioningly at the Doctor. "It doesn't end there. I remember things I've never done, outcomes of decisions that I never made, and lives I've never lived. And it's not just me."

The Doctor looked grim. "How are you handling it?"

Pete pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "All I'll say is that the shrinks around the world are seeing a great influx of patients." He tucked away the handkerchief. "So I must ask you, Doctor, what has happened? What did you do?"

"Nothing," said Rose. "He didn't do anything. It was me."

"What?" asked Pete, turning towards his daughter.

"I had to fix it, Dad. And this was the only way. I'm sorry."

"Rose honey, I don't understand you."

The Doctor stood up from the couch and moved beside Rose placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. "What she means is that Earth is now at the center."

Pete's brow furrowed in confusion. "The center? Of what?"

"Everything," Rose whispered. "The universe was collapsing. I had to do something to fix it, and now there are no alternates of Earth. There is only the one."

"No more Pete's world versus Rose's world?" Pete's eyebrows rose to his receding hairline.

"No more," added Rose. "Only the one. That's why everyone can remember."

Pete's legs suddenly refused to support him and he collapsed heavily on the couch. "What about you, Rose?" he asked. "Do you have these memories, too?"

"No," she said. "There's only ever been one of me. It's why it had to be me."

The Doctor's arm around her tightened in surprise; whether it was from hearing she was singular in the universe or it was astonishment at her being aware of that fact, Rose couldn't tell.

"Now that I can believe." The Director of Torchwood was silent for several moments, and Rose felt certain she could see the wheels turning inside his head. "What does this mean for the Earth?"

The Doctor reached down and squeezed Rose's hand. "Oh," he said lightly, "I shouldn't think it would make that much of a difference, at least not for a really long while. The memories will start to fade as timelines work themselves out, and you might see increased alien travel to Earth. It being the center of everything will very likely attract some attention. It is rather exciting to contemplate." He bounced on his toes. "It's an adventure."

Pete let loose with a dry laugh. "I've seen your idea of adventure, Doctor, and it isn't for everyone. But I suppose that does explain some things."

"What things?" asked the Doctor.

"We've received a glut of diplomatic applications from a great many species we didn't know existed and don't even have names for. We are suddenly being treated like some exotic stop on an intergalactic travel package, and we are scrambling to accommodate."

The Doctor nodded. "All par for the course. I'll be happy to relate what I can about the species involved."

"I would be grateful, Doctor." Pete reached forward and snagged a photograph off the table. "But what about this? Is it a threat?"

"You can't let anyone go there, Dad." Rose's voice was tinged with worry and she felt the Doctor's eyes on her like a physical touch. "No one. Make up whatever story you have to, but don't let anyone get close, not until I…we say it's OK."

"That won't be easy. And if it is a threat to the Earth, I have to -"

"No! It isn't a threat, I promise." Rose shifted from foot to foot and wrung her hands. "I know it will be difficult, and I'm sorry, but it isn't for you, not for a very long time."

"Rose," Pete said seriously, peering into her face, "I can tell you believe what you are saying, but unless you can give me a reason, I don't know that I can do what you ask. What is it?"

Rose jumped when the Doctor's voice rumbled beside her. "It's a piece of a dead planet, Pete, and the ground contains so much radiation it would kill any human that set foot on it."

This was something concrete that Pete could latch onto it, and he grabbed the information like the Doctor knew he would. "What about protective gear?"

"You lot don't possess the technology needed to protect yourselves," said the Doctor, warming to his story. "The human race won't develop the technology needed to counter that specific type of radiation for at least," he glanced at Rose for guidance, "one thousand –" Rose gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, "two thousand-" Rose nodded. "Two thousand years!" he finished.

"So it is a threat," said Pete.

"Oh no," said the Doctor, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The orbit is completely stable and as long as no human sets foot on it for a couple of millennium, it should be perfectly alright. Don't bother it and it won't bother you. Isn't it lovely how that works?"

Pete looked first at the Doctor and then Rose. Rose recognized the look in Pete's eyes; the Director of Torchwood was a smart man and he suspected he was being flimflammed. Rose wasn't the best of liars, but she did her best to look as if the nonsense the Doctor had just spewed was exactly what she believed with all her heart.

Pete continued to eye them with suspicion, and then sighed. Leaning over he gathered the photos together and shoved them in a folder. "I get the feeling you two aren't being completely honest with me," he said. "But I trust that you will tell me if and when danger becomes imminent."

"Of course," said the Doctor.

Rose pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it. "Got my super phone back. We can call you at the first sign of trouble from absolutely anywhere."

"Alright," Pete conceded. He kissed Rose on the forehead. "I've got to go make arrangements to deal with this dangerous rock in our orbit. How long are you staying?"

"For a bit," said the Doctor.

"We've got to run a short errand, though," added Rose.

"An errand, eh? Well don't tell your Mum and try to be back before she wakes in the morning or else she'll have my head for not tossing the Doctor in a deadlocked cell so she could have some time with you."

Rose smiled. "Will do."

Pete left the room and Rose felt tension fill the room; the Doctor was angry, she could tell. He looked at her with blazing eyes and tight lips. He was uncharacteristically quiet.

She gazed up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I wasn't sure at first," she started. "But I remembered when I saw the pictures."

"What is it, Rose?" he demanded.

"A gift."

The Doctor reared back in surprise. "A gift? This isn't a box of chocolates we're talking about here. It's a bloody planet!"

"I know that!" Rose shouted. She drew in a heavy breath. "Is this how it is now, Doctor? Are you going to yell at me every time you discover a new change in the universe you either don't understand or approve of?"

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair. "No, no. It isn't like that, Rose." He pulled her into his arms. "It's just going to take some getting used to," he finally said. "It goes against everything I was taught, well, when I actually listened that is. Planets just aren't supposed to appear from nowhere."

Despite herself Rose smiled into his jacket. "It's a new universe, Doctor."

The Doctor pulled back and grinned. "Yeah, I suppose it is. A brand new universe begging to be explored." He bent over and quick as lightening placed a gentle, brief kiss on her mouth. "And there is no one I would rather explore it with."

He bounced on his toes suddenly filled with excitement. "So," he said, "a gift, you said."

"Yeah, a gift."

"Typically gifts have a giver, that would be you Rose, and a receiver. Who is this gift for?"

Rose caught her tongue between her teeth and grinned slyly. "Oh, I don't know. The universe?"

"The universe, eh? Can't think of a more unappreciative entity to receive a gift."

"You're right," Rose agreed. "The universe can be very rude. Maybe the gift is for you."

He looked at Rose intently, all signs of merriment gone. "Me?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile. She extended her hand in invitation. "Wanna go take a look?"

The Doctor did not hesitate when he grabbed her hand. "Absolutely."

* * *

The Doctor stared at the time rotor with something akin to awe. "I think that was the softest landing she's ever given me," he said. He turned to Rose. "It's like she is happy to be here."

Rose smiled mischievously. She stretched out a hand and patted the console. "Happy? I think she's positively delighted."

Neither Rose nor the Doctor proved to be adequate at deception where Jackie Tyler was concerned. When she wheedled out of them that they had an "errand" to run, she glared at the Doctor with such ire that he felt inclined to take shelter behind Rose. In the end, she made them stay through the day, only allowing them to return to the TARDIS after a home-cooked family dinner and a detailed description of the pain she would inflict on the Doctor's person if he were late bringing them back.

Rose had faced another battle as soon as she boarded the time ship. It had taken all her skills at persuasion to convince Zaizan to let her and the Doctor disembark alone. She had finally resorted to playing the "Golden Mother" card and told him emphatically that she knew precisely what they were headed into because she had created it herself. And if something were to go wrong, she could scream. Loudly.

Zaizan wasn't happy, but finally acquiesced with a tight bow. He left them in the control room, heading towards the habitat room the TARDIS had created for him.

The Doctor made no move towards the door.

Rose sauntered over and nudged him with her elbow. "You ready?"

He swallowed hard, and rubbed his hands through his hair. "What's out there, Rose?" he asked softly.

Her smile broadened. "Only one way to find out," she said and nudged him again. "Go ahead, Doctor. Be the first to step out onto something entirely new."

His long legs ate the distance to the door with ease; once there he steeled himself, took a deep breath, and opened the door. He stepped out of the familiarity of the TARDIS and planted a foot on red ground. In the distance, limbs of tall trees bearing silver leaves waved in the night breeze. Though there was no light from the sun at this time of day, fields of what appeared to be living corral emitted a soft golden light.

Rose came up behind him as he let out a strangled gasp. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"Rose –" The word was no more than a puff of air.

She moved around him and walked into the nearest field. Squatting next to the orderly rows of baby TARDISes, she stretched out a finger and every so gently rubbed the nearest one. The glow around it brightened, and suddenly the air was filled with a musical hum.

It was then that he noticed it. It wasn't the TARDISes that had brightened; it was Rose. Her hair streamed like starlight, and when she looked up at him with a sweet contented smile on her face, her eyes glowed like the eyes of a wolf.

"I couldn't bring either your people or your planet back," she said, her voice rising on the wind. "Both were too ruined. But there was no reason for the universe to forget. So this stands as a memorial to the Time Lords and Gallifrey."

The Doctor moved forward, away from the shelter of the TARDIS and gazed around him, speechless. In the dusky light, his eyes glittered suspiciously.

"There will come a day when the humans are ready to take their place among the stars, many many years from now." She gently rubbed the coral-like substance again. "And when they are, these will be for them."

The Doctor found his voice. "And what happens until then?"

Rose stood and dusted off her jeans. "Until then, we tend them, and we protect them."

He wasn't sure what emotion was painted on his face, for at that moment he was feeling too many to name. The Doctor knew it wasn't pleasant when his companion changed in the blink of an eye from the powerful Golden Mother, to an uncertain Rose Tyler.

She shoved her hands in her jeans and stared at the ground. "I'm sorry. I should have asked, but you weren't there and –"

His hands came up as he tried to stop her words. "No, Rose that it isn't –"

She raised her eyes and scrutinized him closely. He still wasn't sure what she read in his eyes, but this time, she nodded towards the TARDIS. "She is not alone anymore."

Rose slowly closed the distance between them as if she was afraid he would push her away. When he didn't, she drew him into her embrace. "Neither," she said softly, "are you."

The Doctor had known from the first day he met her that Rose Tyler would be his undoing. His defenses cracked, and long buried grief rose to the surface. He trembled like a tree caught in a tumultuous storm, tears flowed like rain, and his agonized cries echoed like thunder.

Through it all, she held him.

When he was spent, she led him to the top of a large hill. They sat together in the fragrant grass, she silent and calm, and he more than a little embarrassed at his outburst.

Neither was surprised when he started talking.

"A Gordian knot," the Doctor mused, staring up into the constellations that were so different from those he remembered.

"What?"

"The Gordian knot," he repeated. "It is a legend from ancient Earth. It was said in the kingdom of Phrygia that whomever could solve the knot cipher and free the oxcart would be worthy of being the next king. Alexander the Great comes along and solves the puzzle in one swift stroke."

"Yeah?" asked Rose. "How'd he do that?"

"He sliced it apart with a sword."

"Sounds like cheating to me."

The Doctor stretched out more fully in the grass and put his hands behind his head. "Yeah, I suppose. I've solved many puzzles in my day, and it always seemed to be more rewarding to actually solve the riddle than cheat. But still…" he trailed off.

Rose scooted closer to him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Still what?"

"Hmm? Oh, on earth the term Gordian knot has come to mean solving an intractable problem with a bold stroke. It occurs to me that there can be some value in that. Like you repairing the universe."

Rose scoffed. "I don't remember any bold strokes. I do remember a lot of, well a lot of string, not to mention lots of sharp spikes."

"Still," he insisted, "your solution to the Polestar was brilliant, if unconventional, and likely to have lasting consequences."

"Gee, thanks," she retorted drily.

"No, Rose," he said looking up at her intently. "You misunderstand. I don't think I could have made the choice you did."

"No," she agreed. "You would have thought of something better."

He saw nothing but unwavering trust and love in her eyes. The knot of his emotions pulled taut, and the Doctor wondered if she saw the same sentiments echoed in his eyes.

_An intractable problem…_

"So," he asked softly, "how long are you going to stay with me?"

She smiled gently down at him. "Forever."

_A bold stroke…._

He returned her smile with a blinding one of his own. Without any hesitation, he reached up and pulled her face down. "Brilliant!" he said, and kissed her, allowing an entirely different storm of emotion rise to the surface.

Out on the horizon, the sky began to lighten as the moon rotated on its axis and turned its face to the sun. The Doctor and Rose, the Oncoming Storm and the Golden Mother, were entirely too busy to notice.

But millions of miles away, on a small blue planet that was shouldering the literal weight of the universe, one impatient and increasingly irate mother sat in her kitchen sipping tea, carefully watching the sky through the window. When morning finally dawned, it was unaccompanied by the wheeze of an ancient time ship.

Jackie gingerly placed her cup on the saucer. She rubbed her neck and rolled her shoulders. "Bloody Time Lord," she muttered, clearing away the tea things. "All of time at his disposal and he's never on time." As she stood at the sink washing up, Jackie vowed that this was an error that she would make sure the Doctor regretted. In spades.

And as the watery light of the budding day streamed through the window, Jackie smiled.

~Fin

A/N: This has been a massive project, but it is finally completed. I wish to extend a special thanks to my beta Fayth, for without her support I might not have completed this story. I also want to thank all of you that have read and enjoyed my story, especially those that took the time to comment. I greatly appeciate your feedback. A giant group hug to you all! :)


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